The newsagents at the top of the street where I sometimes spent weekends with my cousins and aunt and uncle was called "Broadway". Any hint of reflected glamour it may once have clung to had long since vacated. Even the boxes of continental chocolates on the long shelves were by then covered in a fine film of dust.
Aside: a farthing for your thoughts, dear boy.
Rosa rides a mountain bike. She takes it everywhere rather than use the subway or file onto a bus. I like to watch her ass as she pedals off.
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