A Battered Bag of Memories

Strangers calling on a Friday night don’t often bring good news. My wife begged me not to pick up. A tiny voice asked if he was speaking to James Brandon McGirk. I told him he was. “A James Brandon McGirk who was born in London in 1979?” Yes, I replied. Yes, I am. Who’s calling? “A Concerned Citizen was his reply…

 

 

2 Replies to “A Battered Bag of Memories”

  1. Can’t you simply post the entire text here? I’d love to read your story, but am not willing to pay The Chronicle’s extortionist $76 subscription rate for the pleasure of doing so.

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