Kevin flicks a big gloopy bogie at Mam sucking on a Superkings, gabbing. He stepsback, then again, and scarpers towards some building.
Inside, the warm kisses his face. He gasps, sees rows of books everywhere.
His fingers itch to touch a blue-green one.
On its front an open wooden chest coughs out jewels, pearls, gold coins onto bright white sand.
Kevin’s jaw slackens as he devours each page, tasting sea salt on his stinging lips. He’s a pirate! He’s-
‘Kevin! You ‘ere? Get ‘ere!’
Stale cigarette smoke permeates his nostrils.
The book is returned to the shelf.