Piotr was on his way to work in the slaughterhouse when he saw the old man walk into the water. His shift started at five, and he thought at first that the tweed jacket and the cap he could see through river mist must belong to one of the fishermen he’d come across, tickling trout […]
To access this content, you must be a subscriber to New Welsh Review. Subscribe today Existing subscribers, log in to view this content.