Originally published in Patchwork Magazine
An excerpt
On the station platform, rain dribbles down the windows of the waiting area in long, rope-like rivulets. Inside, an elderly white-haired lady sits next to Lorna, who is watching the rain with a limp expression. Lorna is a bell-shaped woman – with a plump lower half and a small head – her thin shoulders slumped, and her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. They are silent when the phone bleeps, the sound absurdly cheerful against the quiet and the rain.
