“I’m really, truly sorry,” Blake said, gesturing and screwing up his eyes, as if in pain, as if to show the depth of his regret.
Quite good acting, Ann thought.
“You do believe me?” he asked earnestly.
Smiling, she turned and walked away. As if I could be so stupid.
John Young is an old chap grappling with themes of limits, longings, and finitude. He likes spooky stuff and lives in St Andrews, Scotland, an ancient town with an ancient university, home of golf, and home also – allegedly – of many ghosts. (He has not met any yet.)