Ben Seigler
Bio
I am a twenty-five-year-old writer from London.
Stories (1/0)
Helping (Dying) Strangers
Andrew watched the sun gild the swart, twitching man, and then watched him in the shade as it enlivened the woman on the table along. The man was drinking tepid water. ‘Cup of hot water. Please. Please,’ he said, holding out five pounds to the café’s lone waitress while the crown of his bald head pointed at the window opposite. He rejected his change with an aggressive shake, then left the hot water to cool for ten minutes before he drank it in sporadic sucks, as his left hand, his dominant one, trembled subtly rattine over a small black notebook. The man snapped it shut whenever he stopped jotting, then pocketed an old silver pen with a surreptitious twitch into his ersatz tweed blazer.
By Ben Seigler3 years ago in Psyche