A first for the Jar Belles; we’re pleased to publish a piece of short fiction by Alison Graham.

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Sardines

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.