Samantha sits stiffly, her back to the sandwich shop door, husband seated before her. He was in the army. He must face the door always. She lifts the steaming cup of Earl Gray to her lips, wincing as she sips, delicate like a hummingbird.

The chair sits in the great hall, silent and imposing. Thick cobwebs drape across its crown and down its straight back like a gauzy cape. There are cracks in the burgundy leather that covers the seat, signifying age and creating the illusion of a wizened face gazing out from the shadows.

The first day of Spring dawned crisp and clear. The birds sang outside Katherine’s window. She groaned, throwing the covers over her head to block out the light that streamed across the moors, then the garden, then through the open window.

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I stand in the doorway, the cavernous room empty before me 

Nothing exists here now save the stage and it is bare—it is dark

But it is usually dark and crowded and loud and full of people 

Escaping from

Escaping to

Escaping with

​

Kate eased through the door into the café, inhaling the rich, fragrant scent of dark roast and freshly baked eclairs. In line behind a young couple, hands in one another’s back pockets, she readjusted the heavy laptop bag on her shoulder.

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