Halloween Story: The One that Got Away by Raoul Izzard


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Last cuppa


Wisps of faces pass in the shimmering heat of the August sun, as you flicker through the pages of the daily. From the cover of the cafe parasol, you see: khaki shorts with baggage in tow, map flapping behind like a bedraggled tail; long legs, biros holding hair buns tight; hopalong school bags, clasped hands swinging like a metronome; and everyone rushing about like their lives depended on it, weaving around each other, moments from a collision that never happens.

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