The baby’s wails cut through the cramped airplane cabin, sharp and relentless. Heads turned, sighs hissed
**Alice.** Old Edna wiped tears from her pale, wrinkled cheeks, her hands fluttering like a restless child’s.
Your mum’s away for a whole month? Well, I’m off to mine then,” Emily said, already standing there
**Diary Entry – March 16th** Found myself sorting through Aunt Margaret’s things after she passed.
Margaret Davies studied her reflection, adjusting her grey suit. Today was Lottie’s thirtieth birthday.
Henry Whitfield loved his balcony, especially on Friday mornings when the city below was still grinding
**Entry from Margaret Wilson’s Journal, 10th May** I adjusted my tweed suit jacket before the hallway mirror.
James Whitmore adored his balcony. Especially on Friday mornings, when the city below was still grinding
Right, so Oliver was standing by the window watching the traffic, and he just like, snapped round at his mum.
The kettle whistled sharply as Eleanor heard the familiar knock. Her neighbour Mrs. Harrington hovered