I’m picking at the callous on my hands while he talks. He says he’s been crying for the last few nights. He tells me he’s missed work. I dig deeper with my nails, peeling off thick layers of white crust, as if I’ll find helpful words underneath the hardened skin.
Joseph Lewis is a monkey at a typewriter who occasionally produces work coherent enough to be considered fiction. Currently he is making peanuts while he studies and works as an online English language and literature tutor.
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