Jon Gracey

Little Black Book

Dev walked down the street, kicking at tin that stubbornly refused to move out of his way. He felt the frustration of the day, the week, the year, building up inside him and he almost screamed. The jewellers was going under, he’d wagered its future on a big summer of sales that had never come and now no bank would loan him the money to continue. He didn’t blame them. He was a loser, and he had lost.