Short Stories WR Woodbury

  “You can visit us on Sundays,” Gordon said.  Pip looked at the pointed toes of his shoes.  “I’d rather not,” he said.  “I’d be in your way,” he said. “Nonsense,” Gordon answered.  “Stella already knows about you, so we wouldn’t have to pretend.” Pip's bulldog face had first loomed into view at Gordon’s bedroom window just as he was about to start primary school. Gordon had woken up one morning and there he was. At first only his knitted cap appeared, but once his mouth was visible over the high windowsill he hadn't stopped talking.  He didn’t tell his own stories but asked a lot of personal questions to get to know Gordon.  What was his name, how old he was, his favourite food, what things he hated, and a lot of things Gordon hadn’t thought about before like whether he liked his mother or father better.  Once they got to know each other, Pip started giving advice, not all of which Gordon agreed with.  “Why don’t we go to the playgro...