Man Creates Itself – Fiction by John Higgins
It had been a quick death, they assured me. I’m not sure if that was meant as a gesture of consolation, or just a way of filling that morbid gap that always occurs when you engage in the unpleasant experience of conversation with a mourner:
−At least she didn’t suffer.
Ironic, really, Mum tripping on that same bit of carpet at the top of the stairs that she had harped on about for months, her self-diagnosed OCD flaring up every time she saw that little flame sticking up out of the sea of red b...