John Bull

Oct 12, 2020

8 min read

The Ballerina

What price art, in a world where it no longer pays?

Fatima turned the key slowly and pushed. The front door opened with barely a click. She smiled to herself. She’d got the whole routine down to an art now:

Wait round the corner until seven forty-five, as that’s when the evening matches kicked off, then open the door quietly. The first and fifth floorboards in the hallway were…