The wave
They were negotiating the skinny,inner-city streets when Nev pulled over to accommodate an approaching car,blasted the horn and waved sarcastically at the oblivious,passing motorist. In the back seat,Emma and Tom exchanged a look. “No wave?” Tom said. “No f---in’ wave,” Nev confirmed. “It’s what’s wrong with the world,I reckon,” Emma said,mimicking Nev’s baritone. “If you ask me,” Tom growled,“the social contract’s breaking down.” Nev eyed them in the rear-view mirror. “Mock all you like. But you’ll see,” he said. Scowling,he drove on,scanning the streets for more slights,insults,portents of doom. Words by Paul Connolly. Illustration by Jim Pavlidis.