PWP Fiction

The things below I think are now probably best described as fiction, even if they didn’t necessarily feel like it at the time.

I Was Just Trying To Be Nice

Danger: Void Behind Door

Across the road is a nail salon, then a jeweller’s, a florist’s, and – I stare at the words above the next doorway: Divine Money, Financial Services. Why is that so familiar? Obviously it’s the sort of name you remember, but – where would I be remembering it from?

Is This What People Do?

Danger: Void Behind Door

The lorries are starting to move now, rumbling across the deck of the James Newman and onto the ramps that shake and ring beneath their tyres. He is supposed to leave too; there is an announcement over the tannoy, every time a ferry docks, forbidding passengers to remain on board.

Approval

Danger: Void Behind Door

The man at the neighbouring checkout was looking at her with something that might have been curiosity and might have been pity. Her cheeks prickled. It was years since she’d needed to tell the difference.