Aunty slept for ages. We all sat patiently
downstairs while she took her siesta.
Uncle began to nod. I thought it’d be
nice to greet Aunty with a warm reviving
meal. So I went back into the kitchen, to
explore the cupboards. Things were
pretty bare. Just a few bashed-up tins of
dubious provenance. I searched for a can
opener. There was nothing. So I went
back into the lounge and shook Uncle’s
shoulder gently. He grunted sleepily. I
explained that we must get food. Uncle
yawned obscenely. I shall step out and
buy fish and chips, he announced. He
rose from his seat, scattering dust and
bad body odour. Small change jangled
in his pockets. Like a man mountain
Uncle stumbled towards the door,
lifted the latch, and was gone.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

179 thoughts on “Ages”

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