Leah Fleming

It was like cycling straight into an oil painting: into a canvas of sea and mountains, islands and shore, into a rainbow of colours as far as the eye could see.

grey boulder while he skimmed pebbles over the surface as she had taught him on her last visit. There’s no rush, she thought to herself, we have this day all t

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Flora needed space to be alone with her grief.

Isn’t it beautiful? So blue, so calm, and the sun is like a golden ball.’