Far From The Madding Crowd

That was the house we didn’t have a name for. Too late for afternoon, too early for evening. It made shadows lean the wrong way. The edges of things softened. I used to imagine the flat held its breath then – just long enough to confuse us. Long enough for one thing small to slip

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Chapter One   The first sound was always the wind. Not outside, exactly—more like the echo of it, scraped into the bones of the building. It moved through the girders and concrete in slow, tonal sighs, humming beneath the floors like something unmade. At the very top of the Arsenal buildings, high above the Thames,

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