Photo by Clay Leconey
There was something incongruous about the man’s back. My eyes followed him around the bookshop. He was slim, of medium height, dressed in beige, classic-cut mackintosh, and ...
She keeps looking, searching for something that isn’t there anymore, but smiles at the same time, keeping a polite pace to the conversation.
...
It was a cruel, cruel, thing to find. Her eyes in the mirror were cruelly the same as the eyes in the photograph; almond-shaped, fine and bright. Everything else had ...
Alistair couldn’t have known exactly what was wrong with our school’s secretary when he went in there. Mrs. Tinsley had just put the phone down and begun blubbering at her ...
Grain in the silo, hay stacked in the barn,
cows waiting to be milked – assurances that someone held fast to the rituals of earth that kept us all fed. ...
I’m in the shower when I see it: a black dot, just above my elbow, static under the suds slithering down my arm. I assume it’s biro and carry on ...
