demonstrate my precog powers, as this story clearly predicts the fidget spinner. I should get paid more for this stuff.
More stories from last year’s Galley Beggar Prize longlist are all online on the excellent site, as well as details on entering this year’s competition – which you should do if you possibly can. I foresee a good one.
I was in the shop mostly to warm myself – the mall was heated, the weather bitter – but I also had a dumb, nostalgic fondness for places like this. Miniature pool tables, World’s Greatest Dad mugs, aprons fitted with plastic boobs. That kind of thing. I was playing with the old-school executive toys, making the spheres of a Newton’s cradle clack back and forth, when the store assistant came over.
“Something for your boyfriend?”
Cheeky, I thought. He was a spruce young guy in a royal-blue polo shirt, tucked in to show off a neatly solid chest. Ryan was sewn on the breast pocket.
“No boyfriend,” I said.
“No? That’s a shame.”