Mr Devereux walked out on his wife of 20 years that morning, not just because she had developed a sudden passion for weaponry. Wearing a bowler hat, as he had for the last 20 years, it wasn’t difficult to step out into the soggy streets and hitch a bus to Hastings. “Y’all having a nice day?” he said to the harassed woman sat next to him who held a toddler on her lap. The little boy kept reaching for Mr Devereux’s hat, but when he took it off and handed it to him he started to cry. The woman tutted, her arm all drenched in the rain that had dropped from the top of it. “Im going on a road trip today” Mr Devereux told her, “I’m going to meet a real pistol”. When he arrived at Hastings bus station he was the only passenger left. The bus driver looked right through Mr Devereux, all the way to the back of the bus and then stepped off, leaving the doors wide open. “Get off when you please, old man, he said, “they’re no pistols left in this town’”. For a while Mr Devereux stayed seated instead, listening to the rain... (read more)