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Richard I woke up today and started thinking about Jane. Little things about her, things that seem to come back now and again, just when you think you are starting to forget. Today I was thinking about how she she read. She would always pause for thought, then go back and re-read whatever passage it
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She could feel Katie hovering around, pretending to be doing something. Making out that she hadn’t noticed the box, the gold ribbons, the silver paper, her secret activity in the corner of the room. Until curiosity and impatience won out as usual. “Is that for me?” “Yeah.” “Can I see it?” “No! It’s a surprise.”
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There was a sign by the door. A small blue enamelled metal plaque. One of the corners had cracked, and a crust of rust had started to flake about it. Judy stared at it, trying to imagine whoever it was that had placed that sign there, so straight and perfect. She wondered what they would…
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Someone had forgotten to clean away the bowl of fruit. It was easy to have missed it I suppose, that one orange lying there in the glass bowl. It was only when I walked passed it and caught the faint whiff of mould that I noticed it. Saw that it had been left there to…
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Perry Johnson stood at the bus stop waiting for the number 89. Every workday evening he did this. The six twenty-five bus home was his. He liked the regularity of it. This waiting around at the same time, same place. Regularity was a thing Perry enjoyed, something he needed. If you’d asked him why he…
