Friday, 20 January 2012

Radio Edit

Years later, my mother asked what had happened to my beloved red Roberts radio.
            I threw it against the wall in a fit of rage; pieces went flying all over the room. I picked them up; hid them in the bin. The giant battery hung limply from its attachment like a broken heart.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
It sounded better than the truth.

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