100-Word Fiction: ‘Andy’

Oh, you know, he was gorgeous. I thought so when he had short hair but when he grew it, my god. A local boy through and through, a real strapping lad. Those shoulders!

Of course everyone knew he liked a drink. A bad lad. None of us judged, not while he was causing such a stir.

But I know why he left. People say they hate him now and they can say what they like. We had fun. I loved him, kind of. Kind of. I sometimes still see him. A lass on his arm, smiling. He plays the game.

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Author: MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. 'Scarecrow', a debut collection of poetry is available now from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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