Mr. Phillips

Mr. Phillips watched the black clouds scud across the sky from the relative warmth and safety of the car. He was tired, hungry and more than usually anxious. He fiddled with his testicles in an attempt to raise his spirits. This simple act used to give enormous satisfaction. Now it was just another empty habit. So he stopped and concentrated instead on the small brick building with the open door at the far end of the grounds.

Mr. Phillips hadn’t seen it leave, but perhaps it had. Perhaps it had waited until Mr. Phillips was running back to the car before it broke cover and slipped into the blackness. Mr. Philips considered checking the building again and decided that, on balance, he would rather saw his own head off with a plastic knife. No. Far better to remain in the car and wait…

More available on request

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