A Week in the Life

Less Than Pulp, Issue 58

I.

On Monday evening, I met up with my brother at a bar called The Clubhouse. It’s located on the outskirts of Newtown, quite literally on the other side of the tracks. The tracks in question are decommissioned and overgrown by grass and trees, half-buried under dirt and stone, but not entirely invisible or forgotten. Newtown is too nice for a place like…