A first for the Jar Belles; we’re pleased to publish a piece of short fiction by Alison Graham.
Ffion’s eyelids hinged open with a shake of the shoulders.
“We’re not moving,” came the explanation, whispered.
“Well, that’s observant of you.” There was a slight dehydrated fracture to her voice.
“I mean the train isn’t – I’m a light sleeper.”
“I’m going to wake the others.” Their eyes were again hinging open, pupils rather than lids; the dark of the compartment was incomplete, but the closeness of the cold outside gave it fullness.