I got used to being wrong, bit by bit, and I didwhat any kid would do — I hid.
Charlie stared at the shoes. High heels, plimsoles, brogues, Doc Martens, desert boots, even a pair of flip flops marched past him. A jogger…
Sinking, please just s u s p e n d meI’m screaming into the mist no f o o t i n g…
He died of alcoholism,rolling down country,meandering his way home,stopping here and there, tryingto forget and knowing he never…