There is no light at the end of the tunnel for us. We are who we are.
Most of the vegetables in the allotments had died back but one, tended by a Jamaican man, was full of squash. They lay among the dying leaves, rimmed with frost, huge, orange and alien, half hidden by the mist. They reminded her of the fairy stories she__ read as a young child, of white horses and gold carriages that turned into mice and pumpkins on the stroke of midnight.
Bone by Bone
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Most of the vegetables in the allotments had died back but one, tended by a Jamaican man, was full of squash. They lay among the dying leaves, rimmed with frost, huge, orange and alien, half hidden by the mist. They reminded her of the fairy stories she__ read as a young child, of white horses and gold carriages that turned into mice and pumpkins on the stroke of midnight.
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