Her name was Gray, which I found fitting because her eyes were that stormy blue-gray you seldom see, and when the sky was overcast, you had to squint to bring what little blue they had into focus. She had an arresting face and a delicate manner, but she dressed with neither forethought or self-awareness, usually…
ContinueAdded by Claire Fullerton on February 17, 2016 at 11:30am — 2 Comments
It was nine o’clock on a Sunday night when Johnny Og came to collect me, and it was raining—not one of those misty, soft rains, as is often the case on the west coast of Ireland, but one of those howling, unforgiving, relentless downpours that comes from no discernable direction, save for the threatening sky overhead.…
ContinueAdded by Claire Fullerton on February 2, 2016 at 10:30am — 4 Comments
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