Tag Archives: Andy McQ


by Andy McQuestin

I walk him there along the thin streets. The small houses pressed up to the curbs, potted herbs balancing on window frames painted in primary colors.

He carries a walking stick. He wears slacks and a button up shirt: the comfortable shoes that await all of us who live long enough. Men of his generation never dress down.

“Just the other side of this block,” I say. He nods. Continue reading


Filed under Fiction