Harlan Covington

Dear Diary, I stood before a black limousine, sleek as midnight, its polished surface catching the glow

The blue uniform and the face Id recognised instantly. It was Constable Stephen Hart the neighbourhood

Vicky lingered, phone tight in her hand. Her mums voice filled her earswet, pleading, like an endless drizzle.

I still remember that bitter winter many years ago, when I was a young bus driver on the little route

Dear Diary, I stood at the kitchen sink, my hands submerged in the cold water, while the evening dusk

Harriet carefully untied the knot, feeling the tiny shoe tremble in her hands. The laces were firm and

28February2025 Diary The rain hammered the cobbled streets of London, washing away the remnants of lipstick

Emily stood at her usual corner beneath the stone arch that marked the pedestrian crossing, the morning

Listen, Emily Mum just brought a new pot, Andrew glanced toward the kitchen, scratching his head.

13May I woke up feeling the weight of another evenings argument pressing against my chest. The flat I