My Ride on the 26, by Mat Woolfenden

They are all standing around the bus stop – and are like children. There is the waitress, early fifties, cute in her lipsticks, and the black pinny spoiled only by long black trousers. She ignores me, she understands how I am a top predator of the top deck. She couldn’t trust herself upstairs with me in the eye-line.

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When Life Gives You Greg, by Patrick Simons

In twenty-six slashes of an angry pen, I enact my bloodthirsty revenge. An indigo insolence five thousand and twenty-six years in the making, a cuneiform callback as old as anger and ink and implements. A brilliant crescendo of rage, all staccato and forte and I’m the conductor, and for twenty-six seconds I feel strong, and there, just there on the seat, the culmination cut in the cream: