It was a twisty, busy road, lined with what looked like mango trees, piles of old fruit under each one. We’d left Ish and LC back in Cairns, with instructions to use the day as they felt best. The conversation with our son had warmed my heart.

“This is a present for your Mum, son. I think LC would get bored, and it’ll be a full day. You sure you don’t mind looking after her?”

“She’s my sister, Dad. What else would I do?”

I found a jacket that remembers a missing girl, and it’s rewriting my body one day at a time. Now I have to solve that girl's murder before the coat finishes its work and I disappear into someone else’s life.

The house smells like garlic and rosemary when I push through the door, gym bag on my shoulder, the t-shirt still damp at the collar from the shower. No bra underneath - the sports bra is in the bag with the soaked sweats, and I didn't put it back on, just pulled the t-shirt over bare skin. The cold outside made itself known on the walk from the cab.

The heat was the first thing.

Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

CHAPTER 56
The flight back was a quiet one for my family, partly through the effects of too much booze, but mostly in reaction to the revelations about Susie’s adopted father. I knew there was more to be told, but all I could think of was the contrast on that ‘Sharp End’ programme between that infantryman and Gerald himself.

The former had spoken with true venom, while Gerald had almost looked ashamed. That, I believe, was the message I took from it all: how the hell had he kept his sanity?

I've been lurking here for a long time but writing fiction is not my thing. Recently, in the comments of a story, CindySadnya mentioned that she found me very good with words and hoped to check what I've written here, and this got me thinking. While I'm still convinced that my mind is not built for writing stories I might nevertheless produce something that people here would consider worth reading. So, let's try this mood piece about days long past.