Postcards
I scratched my head and blinked my left eye. I was changing the bin, as usual, on my morning round on Mortimer street. This was the bin the old lady had been dumping the postcards.
Because Jellyfish Are Immortal
She swam with swift, confident strokes through a murky green sea. It drifted on the water.
Stronger
It’s a Thursday when it happens. I won’t say a Thursday like any other, as there hasn’t been such a thing as an ordinary Thursday — or any ordinary day — since the accident.
Binoculars
A couple live in a beautiful, peaceful village by the sea. They take a brisk early-evening walk and climb up high onto their hill overlooking their waters.
Up on the Roof
Roadie Reg dragged the speakers, amps and cables up onto the flat roof. Musically, he was tone deaf and about as creative as a plate of cold mince.