Ghostheart
“Raining straight down like stair-posts, Annie’s mother would have said, and then laughed her laugh, a laugh that said more about the woman than any words could have done. Annie’s mother had tried to live a life after her husband had gone. She’d tried hard, so very hard. But tough though she was life had somehow been tougher than her, and the face she’d worn for the world was one of grim determination hidden beneath a shadow of easy contentment. You didn’t have to look long to see the real Madel...ine O’Neill; didn’t have to look long at all.
Annie switched off the alarm clock and stayed right where she was, buried inside the quilts she’d piled around her, savoring those moments of sleep-drenched semi-wakefulness when the night had not yet fully emptied itself out, and the morning was still hurrying on its way. The narrow hiatus between the two was perhaps where she found herself most secure. It was early, there was no rush to be up, and somehow the urgency to be at the store, to ensure that everything was in order, that the sign was turned just at the right moment, seemed unimportant.MoreLess
Annie switched off the alarm clock and stayed right where she was, buried inside the quilts she’d piled around her, savoring those moments of sleep-drenched semi-wakefulness when the night had not yet fully emptied itself out, and the morning was still hurrying on its way. The narrow hiatus between the two was perhaps where she found herself most secure. It was early, there was no rush to be up, and somehow the urgency to be at the store, to ensure that everything was in order, that the sign was turned just at the right moment, seemed unimportant.MoreLess
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