/ White Van

Powering up Grove Lane, smelling the still-scented whatevers in the front gardens of the big houses, cane striking out ahead of me, having been to the gym, having bought some wrapping paper, having spent too much time in Crisis looking at books, I see a squat white van parked next to the curb. Its passenger door is open onto the pavement, blocking my way. I slow as I get nearer, and nearer, and then the door closes, gently, pulled to by an unseen, accommodating hand.



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