As he drove across the bridge into town, Angus checked his watch. It was a bit hard to read in the dark, but it looked liked it might have been a bit after two. With any luck, no one would see or hear him as he made his way through this last bit of civilisation before he got where he was going. Last thing he needed was for someone to remember him coming through here. He turned left at the roundabout in the centre of town and headed off towards the ironbark forests out of town. He felt he’d done well tonight; made it out of the city and up the freeway without incident. It was all good.
Category: Now his car had run out of petrol
Kyle’s picture leapt onto the screen of Margot’s iPhone, habitually set to silent while a client was in the boutique. Why did he ALWAYS call when she was with a customer? Her son had no sense of timing – or a perfect sense of timing, depending on which way you looked at it. The phone buzzed insistently on the shop counter but Margot hurried back to the fitting room to serve the potentially profligate client with highly suggestible tendencies who was hopefully going to help her break even this week.
And now his car has run out of petrol. The engine died peaceful-like; then silence closed in. The godforsaken road made a straight furrow through the silent forest; twilight a permanent fixture of the landscape. He stilled himself for he knew what came next.
Dave’s choice of parents was always wanting. His mother had devoted more time to her militant feminist causes than to actual mothering. A buxom woman in her sixties, Jeanette still refused to wear a bra, and although it had worked well for her both politically and socially in her younger days, nowadays it was more to her detriment gravitation wise.