Inigo Atkin
Joined July 2021
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The Fruit of One's Labour
“Good afternoon, Abe. Would you mind coming with me?” The officer’s casual tone belied the obvious wariness he wore about him. Abe gave one of his signature sneers, the one he reserved for pencil-pushers and jobsworths. As he followed into the interview room, the neat blue uniforms of the officers and the practiced indifference provided him a burst of savage humour. Waste his time? They’d soon discover he could play that game too.
By Inigo Atkin3 years ago in Fiction