All of the people were happy.
According to each other.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

Julia downed her bottle of red wine.
She felt wonderful and went back to answering the phones.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

The man got his face tattooed on to his face.
A much older version of his face, though.
He did it as an experiment to see if anyone would notice or say anything.
No-one said a thing.
In fact, no-one even went anywhere near him.
‘London’s so bloody antisocial,’ he thought.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

Michael was a simple man.
But a kind man.
And sometimes a sad man.
But more often an angry man.
And every-now-and-then a funny man.
But also a serious man.
And a silly man.
But sometimes a clever man.
And a stupid man.
But he’d also be a stern man.
And a flexible man.
But sometimes a horrible man.
And a supportive man.
Basically, Michael was a human.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

Without Tom, Sandra was lost.

Sorry, typo.

Without TomTom, Sandra was lost.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

But seriously, Sandra was so lost lately. She really had no hope.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

After peeling sixteen bananas,
Barry questioned what he was doing.
He questioned where he was.
He questioned what bananas were.
He questioned who he was.
He questioned questions.
He had no answers.
He peeled more bananas.

© Carl Burkitt 2018

Every single day was like his first day on Earth.
That’s how he treated them.
He’d marvel at all that saw,
laugh, cry and ask questions.
He was quite difficult to work with, if I’m honest.
So overwhelming.

© Carl Burkitt 2018