Short story writer, mummy, coffee addict.
Look! You keep seeing him, that same little boy. He follows you everywhere. You go to the supermarket, he’s there. You pull onto your street, he’s stood on the corner, watching your every move. He sits outside your house, perched against that battered old bike of his, looking up at your window. You can’t sleep for fear of him crawling through the cat-flap, creeping up the stairs and carrying out his revenge. He’s out there right now, look!
“Isn’t it a sight.” Augustus swallowed a silent sigh as he turned to his wife who had stalled a few paces behind him upon entering the 'Delivery Room'. “Clem?” he paused as he noticed the glint of a tear in his wife’s eye.