Brick

It was a grey and pockmarked as if it had aspirations to be igneous. It was made out of blasted cement in a factory just outside of Doncaster and was used to build the base of a petrol pump at the Esso on Junction 4 of the M6.

She used it to keep the back door open as she smoked into the dull evenings; the runnel along the top was perfect for stubbing out the butts. It had been a screeching row that afternoon in 1976, the tyres the loudest. He had swung the car into the garage using only the handbrake and she had pocketed the loose brick as he ran into the shop for a packet of Lambert and Butler, putting it into the side pocket beside her in case she needed it.