Whether keenly awaiting an imagined terror attack in a twenty-third floor glass box hotel, wandering Catalonian art galleries, or two AM jogging on pitch-black A-roads, solitude is never a truly concrete experience. There is always someone else: someone to buy a dilapidated rural house with, someone to laugh with, someone to get fired with, someone to fight with, someone to ride bikes with.
Richard Owain Roberts has assembled a debut collection of contemporary fiction that is minimalist, confrontational, delicate, and, relentlessly, the absolute unfiltered truth.
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