By Julie Thorndyke
She nearly walked straight into him, coming around the street corner, walking purposefully on the narrow footpath, he just closing the gate in the low white picket fence, still showing the tide mark of recent floods.
Their simultaneous apologies, in broken half-sentences, were polite and automatic.
You’re Tom’s wife, aren’t you?
She was startled to hear her husband’s name slide so glibly from a stranger’s tongue.
[Read more…] about No Stones