Mark Glover
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Stories (4)
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Not so Pointless
A dose of Frasier doesn’t do its job. No laughs out loud. I turn the telly off and make my now familiar commute through the hallway to the kitchen. Only two stops I say, on Zoom calls, the ‘joke’ becoming as tiresome as the meetings. Is it normal to long to catch a train, the Tube even, if it means catching something else? My laptop, perched on the breakfast bar, provides a meagre taste of chambers, as much at home now as any other appliance.
By Mark Glover4 years ago in Fiction
Double trouble travelling Route 66
I ‘recognised’ him when he walked into the coffee shop. A somebody. But I struggled to place him. We were in St Louis, just a few days into driving Route 66 with my friend Clare, east to west, Chicago to LA, many miles under our (seat) belt, having devoured pancakes and double shot coffees to fuel the mileage ahead.
By Mark Glover5 years ago in Confessions
Magical Merlot
The lift doors part, the bar bright and bustling. The busier the better. “Table for Cleo,” I say. The pony-tailed receptionist, no jacket, no tie, no standards post-Corona, taps his tablet and instructs me to follow him. Past the bar and a family of five, two kids colouring, the teen scrolling on her phone, a few years since the parents were on their first date. Longer still for the old couple two tables along, more interested in their menus than each other.
By Mark Glover5 years ago in Humans
