Grief had its own life, took its own sustenance.
There was something soothing about the crackle of paper, the smell of ink, and the soft scratching of nibs and brushes.
People, particularly big men carrying big rifles, don't expect lip from a scrawny thing like me. They always look a bit dazed when they get it.
I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important.
But I’ve also been known to answer to ‘sweetheart’ or ‘handsome.
There’s no such thing as too much champagne. Though your head will try to tell you otherwise tomorrow.