How Many Heartbeats in 22 Days?

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We did nothing quite industriously in the hours before his leaving. The last time, we sat in preoccupied silence, picking at a lunch barely tasted, and aimlessly footered at distraction tasks. A mid morning train made this departure a little less tortuous.

Desultory talk drifted vaguely between us. A gentle touch, a soothing murmur. Yesterday, a sudden feeling of panic and unexpected tears hastily backhanded…

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The Celtic Chameleon

The Celtic Chameleon

I am my mother’s savage daughter. Editor, writer, freelancer. Alison Tennent — lost and found in three continents.