Lightning flashed, and Athena Strange began counting.
It is the middle of a hot and clammy afternoon at Police Headquarters in Algiers.
She stood before us, without notes, books or nerves. The lectern was occupied by her handbag.
The thirty-year-old mother of Madeline Zott rose before dawn every morning and felt certain of just one thing: her life was over.
Pippa Black stared out the kitchen window at the dusty sun-beaten paddocks beyond.
Why is it that just when you think you have all the answers, life starts asking all the wrong questions?
I’m sitting in my therapy room across from a young woman.
At the age of somewhere between forty and forty-two — he didn’t know exactly how old he was — Wilde finally found his father.
For us the voyage was a marvel. We were seeing the world: the Rock of Gibraltar, the Suez Canal, elephants in the main street of Colombo.
Everyone in my family has killed someone. Some of us, the high achievers, have killed more than once.
Hal smiled to himself as the Heron cut smoothly through the water, rising and falling gracefully; swooping over the small, even waves and sending showers of spray high into the air on either side of her bows as she sliced down into the troughs.
I’m going to call you Greta because this whole ‘write to your hero’ project that Mrs Malouf, our school librarian, has given us feels like something kids would have done in the olden days
‘Hello, Vogue! ¡Buenos días! This is Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and I am here to walk you through my skincare and red lip routine.’
In a cramped hotel room high above the prayer-flag-strewn streets of Thamel, the main tourist district of Kathmandu, Nepal, Cecily snapped her laptop shut.
When I first got a job as a journalist, the man who’d abused me for what felt like an aeon rang to exchange pleasantries, ask about my new career, and casually slip in a threat.