...
nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class
what do you think my name is
ahnaf abrar
i did until you asked which kind of gave it away
I'm sat out the front of a cafe in Hatton Garden. I've just eaten a brie and bacon panini, and I'm rolling a cigarette. Feeling very London. An old man comes up to me and asks for a roll-up. I oblige.
abrar?
and the fake qualifier
Thank you, Jack, for telling me I'm just as bad as the characters (actually they're people, if that means anything to you) that I'm writing about.
yeah
no like which do people call me
like magnets
The Hatton geezer (fuck off) is emptying his pockets, searching for the silver rizlas he apparently has. He refuses to take one of mine (also silver) because the tobacco I'm giving him is already too much to ask. He tells me about the guy who can do 50g of Golden Virginia for a good price, the guy who every other man over 50 knows. I'm not interested.
magnetises a pin
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
I'm getting bored and he can tell, so he shifts the topic towards me. He tells me he'd spotted me chatting to a girl earlier, a black girl, and asks what I thought of her, if I liked her. I mimed affirmatively.
Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.whats your name?
Thank you, Jack
feel you