The voice

Jane was shouting. She liked to say that she was born with a more powerful throat-mounted amplifier than most people. She said she got it from her mother, whose booming voice had been her most outstanding characteristic.

A little shudder

“Oh, you look so beautiful, my darling.” “Thanks, grandma. You know whose fault it is though.” “You flatter me, darling. These old bones are fit for nothing but the grave.” “I won’t have any of that talk grandma, not today. You know you’ve got centuries left in there.”

From the other side

I can’t escape from the nagging voice at the back of my mind telling me that I let my emotions cloud my judgment.


Interesting, he mused, that we should come into the world with wrinkled skin and leave with wrinkled skin.