#46

The radio blared across a room full of hard things, over the sounds of an electric screwdriver and a set of pistons, and into the street. From where he was stationed by one of the Victorian arches that constituted the front of the garage, Bryono (Brian to his mother) could just make out something by Duran Duran.

Bryono was bouncing waste tyres down the pavement, towards the skip where Mickie-Rickie (Michael) fielded them, swooping them onto the existing pile. As they stumbled and jogged along, the tyres defined some sort of game that Bryono didn't know the rules to, but because it felt like it was for kids then that didn't matter. The fun was in the playing.

"Forty-six," Mickie-Rickie said, and Bryono was startled.

"What?"

"Forty-six. That's the load for today."

And suddenly Bryono was sad, because it had stopped being a kid's game. It isn't really a kid's game if someone is keeping score.