Transcript #29
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From “Snapshots”, a book of monologues currently being written
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His face was like a national anthem. Always had that pride thing going on. Especially when he reached his late thirties but he’d still spit down the centre of stairwells just to watch that little line of silver pirouette to the ground. He loved it. That satisfying pancake sound as it slapped the tiles three or four floors below. He could spit through the gap in his teeth, even though he spent thousands trying to get them sorted. I never even imagined that he could get upset. That he could be sat in tears. Didn’t even think he worried about things. He always seemed so confident. Always had that sales thing running through him, even after work. That competitive streak. Like he was born with it. Like it was concentrated in his blood. Always seemed so sure of himself . . .