Despite his limp, he stormed away from the pub. I hurried after him. At the clifftop, he paused for breath.
What was all that about?
He shook his head, eyes cloudy.
This place. Charades, smoke and mirrors. I’m sick of it.
I waited. Staring out to sea, he began:
Ok. There was a child…
This is the latest update in my attempt to write a story one tweet-sized installment (280 characters or less) at a time. You can read the first 33 installments as one continuous story here.