Zack waited at the front door of the one bed flat, anxious for his taxi to arrive. It was dark out, and fine rain was just becoming visible in the amber glow of the streetlights. The faint jangle of his keys in his fake designer trousers made him realise he was tapping his foot again. It was a bad habit of his, but impatience and nerves always made him jittery. Continue reading “Trading Places”