Life

‘Dad, what’s that?’ my son says as he reaches across my work desk to grab the desk phone. I look at him somewhat confused and ask him what he means. ‘What’s that black thing on your desk’. Suddenly I feel old, very old. ‘It’s a phone, like

I have a bad habit. One that involves grabbing whatever keys are the closest as I go to the shop, take the rubbish out or go for a walk. I figure that if my keys are still in the apartment, it doesn’t matter. A key is a key. My