Mucking around with new prose ideas - set in the future, an adventure-travel writer reports back on his first week in England. First prose I've posted on here in many years...
What about Jack walking down by the river, picking some daffs, finding the body and ending up in the central reservation or somewhere equivalent with his whole life in tatters?
Particularly because of my childhood I am want to kiss your shoulder and squeeze your hand. Particularly because of my childhood I am a rock in the bedroom and on the bathroom floor.