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Mark O’Connor — Certifiable Love (sample extract)
‘Mr Gilmour, don't push. Wait your turn like the rest of us.’
Typical, so much fuss over a little prod. She had scrunched up her nose too, so that her eyes were narrow slits.
We were waiting for our end of course certificates, and Taylor had asked us to form a queue.
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I looked around the flat and tried to see it with a new eye, the eye of an important guest.
On the polished oak floor of the main room, a two-seater leather buttoned Chesterfield and mahogany penny-table, took centre stage.
The living area was open plan with no dividing wall between the hallway and the main room.
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‘Fuck me, that's taken my nail off.’
Holly was sitting in the doorway, sucking on her index finger.
I saw my certificate folded in half, guillotined by the letter box.
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