Two weeks before Chrismas, sardined in a Salmon Tower elevator on the way back from lunch. In dead center, Helmut, his raincoat, so used it was noble, over his arm. Wisecracks, laughs, coughs, assorted elevator noises. Suddenly, silence, as Helmut proclaims “CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE SHIT”.
All noise remains ceased from then on. I think we were all pondering. Helmut was not a social
When he proclaimed, there was meat to be had.
Carole Anne Fine