Apologies to all those Friday Fictioneers whose stories I didn’t get to read and comment on last week; I was rushing to catch a plane to Spain. This week I’m rushing to catch one back again. 😦 And I’ll try to do better when I get back to England.
The walls between our units were paper thin; next door the thump of heavy-duty machines heralded the birth of belts and handbags, whilst in here makeshift power connections flickered and sparked above production lines foaming with tawdry silk underwear.
It was a living.
Today, above the yellow smog that wreathes the island, fat-cats cruise in silver birds across a cerulean arc. Hundreds of souls drift between the high-rise buildings, watching the Star Ferries butt relentlessly across the greasy grey sea with their human cargoes.
The walls between our units were paper thin; when the fire started we never stood a chance.