"This is nice." she stood in the doorway of the flat and looked round, it wasn't nice at all, it was cramped and grubby, but it was all I could afford...out of my wages as a warehouseman."No, it's not mum," I said and reached to take the shabby coat off her shoulders."That's mine," she said and gripped it tightly."I know it's yours, it'll always be yours, I'm going to hang it up on the peg, look."She watched where I'd put it, just like I'd watched where my possessions were, during the two years. A month or so later, figuring what the hell, I decided to give writing a go. I always had free time to do so during the day when the shop wasn’t busy, or at night when the urge arose.I immediately began to write a new story entitled, ‘Salad Dressing.’ Cheekily, I even used the names Jarrod and Francis in my story. In my tale, however, the characters did not part company at the bar, and a night of sexual bliss ensued.The following day after a final edit, I submitted my story to a website called;. More

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