The Devil's Playground

“It was a half-marathon for the British Heart Foundation. I turned the corner at St Michael’s...,” Nigel ignored the stranger’s flinching. “And nearly ran into him as he stepped out the driver’s side of a brand-spanking-new Mercedes SLS; top-level spec - two hundred grand’s worth of car. Him! A spotty council employee, a civil servant, shitty rap music blaring out of his optional Bang & Olufsen sound system...,” Nigel realised he was shouting. The stranger was nodding.

“That would be enough to drive any man to... well...”

“I’d do it again,” Nigel growled. “If I had the chance.”

“Well, you’ll find him here somewhere, so feel free! In the meantime...”

“He’s here? You mean... I’m... This is, actually...”

“That thought’s fully formed now, is it, Nigel? You were never going to survive a second heart attack, I’m afraid. All that running, then jumping that guy...”





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