anxiety

Twenty-yards from the white line, Gallin snorts a shot of invigorating wintry-fresh air, reviving and stiffening his whole face and covering the walls of his lungs like a frost. He exhales rapidly through pursed lips. His stride becomes more deliberate, injected with a pronounced machismo; long...

A rectangular, brown road sign for Old Leaf Playing Fields looms large at the roadside. Gallin vigilantly pulls the car to the left, presses softly on the brake peddle and indicates to turn into the car park. The butterflies, which have occupied his stomach since the moment he woke, begin to...

Gallin holds a misted glass to his face, quaffing the last few mouthfuls of chilled water, all the while his eyes point upwards, fixed on the outsized, old-worldly clock hanging high above the kitchen door. Its large hand clunks gracelessly down to mark 12.27pm. Gallin places the glass down on...