I know I’m pushing it; a car accident has left him unable to hold a cigarette and it’s starting to singe his mouth.
But he looks so grand in that hat and I’m struggling to frame.
At last, I release and hear and feel the heavy ka-klunk of the mirror bash up and back down again.
Someone else’s hand appears in the right of the frame and grabs the burning cigarette from Greg’s lips.
With that schoolboy smile, he insinuates I’m slowing with age.

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