Writing

My Writing Blog

Escape Goat

Unemployed. Again.

Joe burst out of the building, into the small dark lane, the sun not yet high enough to pierce the deep gullies between the office buildings. His scuffed black leather boots, the closest thing he had to business shoes, slapped loudly on the cobbled lane way. One, two, three steps, his legs unsteady, he stopped. He needed to get away from here, but his legs would not work. He steadied himself, resting his left hand on the grimy red brick wall.