Author: Harlan Covington
Neighbour Upstairs Helen, where did you put my pot? The big one, the one I use for stew? Mrs.
You really think I dont notice? It was a cold, grey evening in London. Mary stood in the kitchen, unpacking
A Husband for the Weekend A fishcake sat exactly in the centre of the plate. Alex stared at it as his
Porridge Instead of Truffles Friday evening. I was standing by the hob, staring as the sauce Id slaved
When Patience Becomes Power Emily perched on the edge of the bed, clutching the unfortunate shirt as
The Hidden Asset Are you really wearing that jumper again? Margarets voice carried the tone of someone
They decided for me Voices drifted from the garden shed, and Margaret caught her own name on the wind
The memory of her father was betrayed. Lydia Simmons had been shuffling through the mews for the better
I was drifting through the attic like a moth in the haze of a London dusk when a battered envelope slipped
Mrs. Winifred Clark, I truly cant right now; Im feeling so unwell Mary whispered those words, barely






