now for the final part of the four-part Late Night Tales story Flat of Angles written by Simon Cleary and read by me Benedict Cumberbatch I didn't know anything could be so perfect the lights of the Mirabal a thousand swirling eyes I dream of relaxing nights there are loads of people in my flat when I got home I'm already one for big crowds makes me want to retreat into my shell I'm looking forward to seeing how it turns out this is a reconstruction I can't tell how it happened there are too many angles,too many reflections the harder I look at another,the more I see myself it feels like I'm here alone in this crowd myself projected round the room the Mirrorball,a beam splitter when contentment comes upon me ,I have to find ways to destroy it I slide the hairs in the coffee cup up its walls click the Catalan while it rushes and hisses I danced with spiders one of those spindly ones or legs and angles made up of lines is feasting on its prey caught up in a mesh the kettle clicks off my skin creeps and my head hurts I need to suffer more I was feeling too comfortable for a second there I guess he was there to save me alone in a freezing wooden flawed flat which I couldn't heat he sent me this Mirabal ordered on the Internet he came later I'd had no money for a fewdays he was desperate for a cigarette I remembered that when I was younger I'd hid some in a tin full of movie stubs and limited edition chocolate bar wrappers I found that in and inside was one single cigarette throwing the stuff aside I placed the cigarette carefully on my dry lips and patter caked my pockets in a panic located lighter and flicked the flame into existence I drew deeply tobacco and paper crackling my alveoli filled my blood vessels roared my scalp tingled and stomach turned hairs on my arm stood up and so did I lunging headfirst for the window flung open in one motion drinking down the black cool air as my mind shrieked I can't feel my arms now I'm here who's been a happy person I work hard and try not to let people down if they would not be there there would be no one to let down things have to be a certain way there is a beauty in order I've cleaned this flat today before leaving for work there I cleaned the storeroom arranged items in the window smile that the customers chose appropriate music wrap gifts gave change smile that the staff told them stories of my past smoked a cigarette by the bins,ordered sage colored visors from the parlaying catalogue lay down on the four-poster bed with no mattress glanced out of the window ,cleaned the windows ,warm some soup,dusted the labs ,waited for the Sun to set,counted listened locked and then it was time to walk home this is not my town ,but then again where is? these are not my people,but is anyone really? he is here again wind milling round the rooms knocking ashtrays over bellowing to be heard desperation in his eyes I know how he feels but he does something about it he gets out of his face ,waits for a gap in the conversation and jabbers his philosophy without solicitation our eyes meet across the room and I feel a little like the spider I gathered the spent cans in a blue plastic off-licence bag and smile as I stoop how is your weak beam well work was quite good sold the chiminea last and looking forward to tonight you've been listening to Late Night Tales Music and stories worth staying up fo编辑于2023/09/02更新