This is a short story from my archives. It was published as part of the Crossing Borders project run by the British Council. The story is set in Dublin, where I was living at time and brings back some wonderful memories. Enjoy!
Varying Hues of Solitude
8:30 Thursday night: as usual the door opened and he appeared. Tonight’s slight variation was that he carried a little black umbrella that he shook gently, letting the water run onto the floor. He quickly glanced around and then slid into his usual seat where he blended into the shadows obscured in the near dark.