Saturday Sample: The Sound of Patriarchy and other stories by L.F. Roth, flat beer,

 

Dance?

Her lips may have formed words, but the music was deafening, so he read her hands instead and then fast-forwarded his life past early thrills to wedding, flat, child, car, a second child, a house, a second car, strain, quarrels, empty looks, long drawn-out silences, distressing counselling, a flat, nights in the pub, divorce, no car, no flat, a bed, slow mindless wanderings, shortness of breath and — the tape was winding down now — death. Looking up from his open coffin, he saw that she had vanished. Oh well, it wouldn’t have been worth it, would it? Would it?

 

Find you copy here.