REELS by Jake Findlay

The youngest can only have been four or five. The worst age; old enough to see – really see – too young to understand.

Understand.

No. Comprehend maybe?

He was sobbing, the little boy in his mothers’ arms, fear etched on his small face, tears streaked his cheeks. His mother was sobbing too, shouting at the soldiers. They ignored her.

Made me think of my two. I hope they don’t see stuff like this.

I swiped up. Sickened at the sight. Sickened at me for swiping away before it ended. Because, what? I’m uncomfortable? I wondered what the woman with her crying child would say if she could see me.

The next video was a ‘fail compilation’. It made me smile. Which made me frown.

Jake Findlay lives a pleasing distance from the pub in the West Midlands. He worries about Wolverhampton Wanderers.

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