The Kidnapping of Chris McQueer

The livingroom is basic — a two-seater and two chairs, one small table, and a wall unit from a charity shop with an old black stereo sitting on it; the kind of furniture the council gives you when you’re not working, when your mental health forbids it. The carpet is so thin there is no bounce under-foot, and perhaps there never had been, even when it had been brand new. But at least it’s blue; he likes that. Pictures adorn the walls, almost jig-sawing together so that the wallpaper underneath is almost completely covered. A massive Rangers F.C flag covers the ceiling; the football team he’s supported since childhood. He doesn’t have a television. He spends most of the day reading. And sometimes he writes stories while playing his CDs. Alan’s head is buried deep in his favorite novel; his eyes peer over the top of it and focus on his mobile phone. He puts the book down, his thoughts consumed by the little black iPhone. <a href="https://alancope24.medium.com/the-kidnapping-of-chris-mcqueer-fbb859dd2df6">Click Here</a>