They fell in love on a holiday. One from LA, one from Tehran. At a bar, they planned a meeting in LA. On TV, breaking news, a Muslim ban.
"Sod it," Leah said to the careers advisor, "just put me down for a decent wage, a good pension and a lifetime of regret."
Bus stop. She on her phone, alone. The other, widowed. “Don’t you ever look away?”
Home. She, holding her hand. The other, holding life.
I gripped tightly on the reins. Twenty miles later, he was still following me. A one eyed Mustang with Texas plates.
On her 34th Valentine's Day alone, Loreta had had enough. She put on a dress, did her hair, visited an animal shelter and killed a puppy.
The soldier stood, and my breath ceased. The other children kept their heads down, hoping for a crumble of bread, but I knew better.
Christmas Eve she walked out into the snow and disappeared. The children were told that she fell in love with Santa Claus and moved north.
Rain burst from the clouds and the mud licked his brand new Nikes. She poured motor oil into his pack of sneaker wipes. Sweet revenge.
Forever lovely her face remains in my soul. A Buddhist monk said she’ll return. What he did not say broke my heart. She lives next door.
Border officer: Anything to declare?
Traveller: Does undying devotion to travel puns count?
Border officer: ...you just crossed a line, kid.
On a fresh, wet October night, low clouds glow by the moon. Burnt leaves coat my breath. His pawprints linger on the slate floor. Temporary.
The great raven stood, its eyes meeting mine. I held my breath, but the invitation to stay was declined.
Visions of pulverised, green feathers filled Julian's head as he watched the wax-eye dance, and again, heard the grinding of the weed eater.
The oxygen mask muffles his words as his eyes plead for me not to go. I avert my tear-filled eyes and walk away.
Growing up in a spiritualist household she was used to strange things but nothing explained the gentleman sitting on her bed when she woke.
There was an oddly bitter bite to that half-eaten Bakewell, so he went in to sweeten his tea. Back outside, the dog buckled and died.
His nails were hard and tough, bark-like, and cracked easily. He wished he could give his nails, and marriage, a varnish of red, or orange.
Leo eyed Kermit in the mirror and chuckled.
He loved saving his best disguises for DiCapri-Con.
The post-apocalyptic silence was broken only by far away groans, penetrating from deep bunkers of ex-dictators watching porn.
Her lunch-hour opens with a one-shot latte, M&S Meal Deal and novel packed with passion, romance and adventure. In the end nothing happens.