“Your face is putting me off my food” I wasn’t a big fan of Chinatown. There were too many bright lights, the air reeked of twice-used cooking oil, and the streets were jam-packed seven nights a week. I could never get comfortable with the jumbled pace: the slow-moving tourists who...
The whooshes of passing vehicles had gradually slowed, and now minutes went by when all she could hear were the Jaguar’s tires slipping over the road. Dawn imagined the river on her left, smooth and black as an oil slick. The tangled woods on her right, breaking through the icy ground. &nbs...