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Weekly Contest #291
This is the story of Max Preensworthy, a man addicted to exactly the same thing as you or I. I'll come back to that. First about Max: Max is almost 52, so his childhood is almost lost to him. His school teachers have forgotten him and he has no close friends. If cats lived longer, one would remember him. He remembers her. It was England, 1973, Max was ten years old. Every morning he skirted Lister’s Farm to avoid the snapping sheepdogs, crossed a couple of empty fields, and walked along the back of a row of sandstone cottages to Chinsbrook...
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