pulitzerlost

* COMADOSER.

——– THE ARTICLE was about him, of course it was. The magazine had sought him out, requested an interview, offered him some modest compensation, and he’d obliged. With what little he knew about business, he knew publicity was relevant.

Yes.

  He replies simply, and honestly.

‘Ave had a few hard knocks to the head, yeah. Bit of a scatterbrain. As for where I write my stuff… Well, it happens where it happens.

  Upon addressing her former question, he took a final drag on his cigarette and surrendered it to the ashtray between them.

‘   what   kind   of   knocks?   ’   joan’s   hand   rests   languidly   on   the   tabletop,   pen   laying   beside   it,   a   half-formed   sentence   on   her   lips.   nearby,   agitated   fingers   thrum   through   a notebook,   and   she   can’t   help   but   feel   something   similar   to   annoyance   at   the   jittery, repetitive   noise.

‘   here,   ’   she   reaches   across   the   table,   slender   fingers   offering   the   man   another   cigarette,   a   meaningless   gesture.   ‘   lucky   strike,   if   you’re   wondering.   ’