(With thanks to Marc Templin)
He sat across the table from me, grinning like an interlocutor. His smile was like a row of teeth between his fleshy lips. His fingers, steepled into a upwards triangle of fingers that resembled nothing so much as some steepled fingers, jutted into the air between us like some jutting fingers.
He sat across the table from me, grinning like an interlocutor. His smile was like a row of teeth between his fleshy lips. His fingers, steepled into a upwards triangle of fingers that resembled nothing so much as some steepled fingers, jutted into the air between us like some jutting fingers.
‘So,’ he said, his voice as low and calm as a low, calm voice, ‘do we have a deal?’
‘Um...’ I said, hesitating like a hesitant person. ‘I can’t really...’ The truth was, I was terrified. My stomach was turning over like the stomach of someone who is very nervous about a deal they are making which they aren’t sure they should be making and that uncertainty is causing them to feel a bit sick.
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