Excerpt from MRS. MARTIN (Daisy Chain)

After work, he would ride back to the library to meet her. He would push his bicycle along beside them as he walked her home. Three miles is far to trek with arthritic knees, but she was worth the pain.
     At the time she lived alone in a small apartment on the second floor of an unpainted four-storey building in a rough neighbourhood, Martin called it. Young men loitered by the corner, streetlights did not work, garbage stank to high heavens and rats the size of puppies frequently ran across the road.  Either that, or they sat heavily on the steps, like pets waiting for their owners.

. . . (continued)
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