‘Yer gonna be late,’ his ma shouted at him from the kitchen.
‘Ahm jist tryin’ tae get masel’ lookin’ right, ma,’ he called back.
‘It’s too late fer that, son,’ she replied, ‘about fifteen years too late.’
She didn’t understand, this was the night he would ask Justine. He should have done it before now. He’d had five years of school together. He’d wasted two of them plucking up the courage to even talk to her.
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