Club 41 on King Street West “What's going on with you lately?” Monica's question - out of the blue though it is - is not unexpected. Her hand, gently draped across my left forearm, tugs gently and, then, playfully, she bumps me with her hip. I feign surprise and, when I turn to look at her, smiling, she is scrutinising me as


It was the piercing sound of a woman shrieking in terror that brought me, unwillingly, swimming upwards from the blackest depths of unconsciousness – near so deep as that blackness which awaits us all – and, allowing my eyes to flutter open, I found myself prone on the pavement with my view blocked by a scuffed and tread-bare truck


Darker days The fretful buzz of the alarm, distant, and its cloying tone softened by suddenly depleted batteries, slowly – far too slowly – penetrated the enveloping layers of sleep and, unwillingly, Frank gradually surfaced, still feeling too tired for it to be already 'the hour'. In fact, it was not - it was a full 30 minutes


Silence within The small woman in a comfortable blouse and loose-fit jeans sighed and studied her hands which fretted with a large, loaded key ring – so large that it might have threatened to topple her over. Suddenly, she looked up as though only then becoming aware of the constable standing in front of her, twice as broad and towering