I slipped on my moccasins and walked to my desk where I gathered my notebook and psychology textbook. I lifted my head and stared out the window of the top-story dorm room I shared with my roommate, Chloe. It was a dreary, spring morning. Gray clouds veiled the blue sky. Rain was imminent, I was sure. “Looks like it’s going to rain,” Chloe said as she opened the door and walked in the small room. I broke my gaze from star...

“I can explain,” he pleaded, though it came out more like, “I cah eshlaih,” with his mouth stretched around the barrel of my shotgun. I raised my eyebrows, dark rage bubbling inside. “Explain?!” I spat. “Oh, this ought to be good. Let me guess, you came round to balance the books, tripped on the rug, your clothes fell off, and you landed in my miraculously naked wife?” Bryce held up his hands and shook his head against th...

I came out of my bedroom to find my housemate Charlotte gazing at herself in a full-length mirror. She looked quite pretty dressed up in a long blue dress for her sister Sara’s wedding. Her brown hair was trimmed and styled better than I had ever seen it before. A little silver pendant holding a ruby hung from a chain around her neck. Charlotte had even put on makeup beyond just lipstick, a rarity for her. “What do you th...

October 30, 1938 About a half mile into the Detroit-Windsor tunnel, I smell oil burning from running the engine so hard. I pat the dashboard of my old pickup. “Hang in there, baby.” I’m struggling to drive while rotating my head like a damn owl, worrying the walls will collapse around us at any moment. The Detroit River would surely swallow us whole. To make matters worse, we lost the radio when we went underground, so I...

Chapter 1 Atticus sat with his friends at Pizza Hut, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and relief after they had all successfully passed their final exams. The aroma of freshly baked pizza and the sound of cheerful chatter filled the air as they indulged in a well-deserved celebration. Atticus was described as an athletic-built young man with milky white skin, raven black hair styled straight to his shoulders with a...

There’s a Blondie record playing on the jukebox in the corner. It’s one you’ve heard many times before but it still pulls you in with its goodness. There’s optimism here, full-on powerpop positivity, to take hold of you in the moment as the night sky falls and you’re in your land of dreams once again. Sitting in the corner with the others, listening to tales of wantonness and revelry, making plans for the next few hours b...

I’m searching for the lost forty-five. Jack was talking about it last night in The Crown. It was when an old northern soul record came on the jukebox, one that they play regularly in there, and which can’t fail to make your feet tap and your body start to move as if you were on a dance floor in Wigan back in nineteen seventy-four or thereabouts or perhaps in Studio 54 in New York City a few years later. It got Jack going,...

The record’s an instrumental called Grow Your Own. It’s a Small Faces b-side from some time around ’65 I think. Back at the old alma mater, Miles used to play it to death. We used to sit in his room in hall, getting dragged into its brilliance, playing it as loudly as possible until we got complaints. I’ve had complaints about the volume of my music all my life. I suppose I always will. Right now, the majestic Hammond org...

You could almost be mistaken for thinking that spring’s upon us. The sun’s out at last. It’s been a long, dark winter. We need the sunshine again to bring the good times back into our lives, let us understand what matters. I’m strolling through the park, along the path, hands in my pea coat pockets, shoulders hunched. In spite of the sun, it’s a dirty sort of day, wind blowing, grass muddy, trees bare. I’m dreaming of the...

Early morning. Eleven o’clock. It’s about the time I usually make my entrance into the world. I’m coming downstairs in my bathrobe and the letterbox clatters. Two letters fall through onto the mat. I go over and pick them up. They’re both for yours truly. The address on one of them is handwritten, in a scrawl I know well, and has a London postmark. The other’s official, with the name of a council about a hundred miles awa...

It’s been a one-night stand. That’s what I’m thinking as I lean against the shelter at the bus station and wait. Don’t ask me why I know it was a one-night stand, but I do. Neither of us said anything but I knew it and she knew it. Maybe it was the way we said we’d see each other around when we parted by her front door. Maybe it was the look in her eyes and maybe it was the look in my eyes. Maybe it was the picture of the...

I’m waiting for spring. That’s what I’m thinking as the bus takes me into the city. It’s dark outside. It’s gone cold again, there wasn’t much sun today. I have my hands on my lap, my pea coat buttoned up and I flick my fringe out of my eyes. I’m on the top deck of the bus. There are two girls behind me on the other side. In front is an old man with a flat cap. Other than that, there’s no one else here. We get to a rounda...

Harry had just got off the train. He had his holdall in his hand and was on his way home. It was a twenty-minute walk and he was thinking about getting a taxi. But impoverished students like him couldn’t afford luxuries like that, not at this stage of life. The sun was shining on him as he went. You couldn’t beat the days of early spring, he was thinking to himself, when it was all starting to warm up nicely. He had his p...

It’s like we’re fixed in time. I suppose it’s always like that with a photograph but this seems more so. I’ve been rummaging, having a clear-out, sorting through drawers and boxes. I pick up a pile of papers it falls out, drops to the floor, looking up at me. The afternoon was a hot one. I remember that well. We’d been sitting round with ghetto blasters in funky park. We went there a lot of days that summer. At least we c...

I’ve got my red trackie top on and I’m on my way into the station. There are ten minutes until the train leaves and it’s busy. I skipped a lecture to catch this train so it had better be worth it. There’s an autumn chill in the air, which I’m liking. It brings the world to life, in a way, adds newness. It’s sharp and alive and there’s excitement in the air. That’s what I’m feeling right now. I’m looking forward to what th...