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Some Kind of Blue

by Eva Hibbs

It’s November now, so the tourists only come in twos. You can always spot them – the ones linking hands by the saltshakers. Hours of silence often go by for the local diners. A couple that James recognises sits by the window. They both stare at a space above their partner’s head, barely moving a muscle. A tiny piece of batter hangs off the man’s lip. Will his wife bother to mention it? It’s ironic that oysters are an aphrodisiac because there’s nothing less sexual than the couples of West Mersea.

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Copyright © 2017 by Eva Hibbs