Paul

Male | 20s | 3 to 5 minutes
Starts on page 38

EXTRACT: I sit, back curved, shoulders down, hand shooting out to collect another call. My mouth moves, flaps, up and down, and I can hear the words but they seem somehow automatic and alien, free-falling off my tongue. I am a mechanical man, drowning in the thick tar that lies in the void between asleep and awake.

Contains adult themes

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