• Sixty-One

    07

    I lie in bed and, as my sleeplessness winds into the early morning hours, I think of my friend, Sam, who took his own life about eight years ago. I met him in 2007 when I went back to school to study professional writing and editing as a mature-age student  – he was fifteen years younger than me, infinitely more talented than me at the same age (although he probably was regardless of age), intelligent, and funny (with a dry sense of humour). Once school had finished, we kept sporadically in touch over the years, and I always enjoyed his company. But I’m a misanthrope when it comes to everyday…

  • The Other Me

    The Other Me

    ‘Epilogue’ i. As I stepped into my new life, I settled into a routine: work; come home and work on revising whatever I’d just finished; make dinner and wash up; then work on something new in writing. Every now and again I would catch up with friends. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I’d ever had. One night I had just made dinner when a friend I’d studied with messaged me that a mutual friend had taken his own life – a young guy, in his mid-twenties, smart, witty, handsome, and talented. He’d even written a novel, which he had told me in the past he was slowly…