The Card. James Ross

The only thing I ever got off my old man was a birthday card when I was ten. He'd gone off when I was three and left me and mam and my sister to fend for ourselves. Mam never talks about him but my sister remembers him.     'What was dad like?' I ask. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166     She looks at me through dark, sleepy eyes, pushes her hair back from her eyes. Her arms are scabbed like she's been shinning up a rusty drainpipe and accidentally slid back down and scraped herself. 'Whu?'…