“What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”
Sam had often thought about the words his grandmother used to whisper to him, time and time again – often whilst he’d lay with his head upon her lap as she ran her frail fingers through his scraggly mop of blonde hair.
Many moons had passed since those prepubescent days. Business meetings had replaced after-school kick-abouts, glasses of wine usurped juice cartons and the train window had become his grandma’s lap. He wore his hair differently now; all heavily gelled and styled. She wouldn’t have approved.
The train tracks faltered and Sam’s head was displaced from the cold glass with a startling bump. He looked down at the pile of papers in his lap and began to build his next defence.
A piece inspired by the Monday Finish The Story Challenge. Click here to find out more!
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