"Write a story that starts with someone writing their will — one they know people won’t like."
"Do you know what today is?" your wife asks as she sits down next to you on the bed. Your face reddens, and it is not because of the warm coffee.
Simon entered the train station with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a hand-made sign in the other. In red, big, bold letters, the text spelled out a female name. Arielle. He looked up at the clock above the tunnel leading down to platform number four and then down at his wrist watch. The first one had just struck 4 o’clock while the latter was two minutes ahead.