The children of Orlfen used to swap stories about what might happen if the Prince of Rostenburg ever returned.
Have you ever noticed how bad things happen sometimes, and there seems to be no explanation?
Sarah kneels on the captain’s chair to reach Playground’s steering wheel, hands gripping at ten and two o’clock, exactly like Mum and Dad taught her.
When Merl Perlman reads about the murder in Saturday’s paper, she has an uneasy feeling that she might know the victim.
The house looked like any other house and the door looked like any other door. Normal.
I kiss my wife on the lips. Her breath smells of last night’s toothpaste mixed with sleep.
It was a perfect day for walking. The morning had broken and washed the sky in technicolour; palest lemon blending into brazen orange and deep, dark ochre.
