Mikey Had Already Gone
“You cut it a bit close,” says Mikey, “when you overtook that BMW on the motorway. You sure we didn’t hit it?”
I laugh, get some cans from the fridge, pass one to Mikey and switch on the TV. Boring, just a local news bulletin bleating on about some road traffic accident.
“There’s something not right with the beer,” says Mikey. I take a swig from my tin, it does taste foul.
There’s also something not right with Mikey–he is starting to fade before my eyes. I look at my own hands–and look again. Like some nightmare X-ray I can see the beer-can through my increasingly transparent flesh. I look back to the couch where Mikey had been sitting but he has already gone.