The New Guy.
A new guy has taken up residence in our street these last few months. He’s also in the drinking game. He sits in the small square near the library. I pass him each day on my way to the newsagents. He drinks beer from cans and lines up the empties as if it’s some kind of competition, and he’s counting.
His clothes are clean but ruffled. His face is tanned; he could be a teacher or even a writer; each time I see him, he gets older.
Now and then, a woman sits beside him; she looks like the social worker type. Usually, she’s talking while he stares into the distance, drinking.
Once, I saw her give him a packed sandwich from the local bakery; when I returned, she was gone, and the sandwich lay untouched on the bench next to him, the following morning, birds were fighting over it.
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