TEXT: It reminded her of the anderson shelter that used to be at the bottom of the garden. The shelter was her den when she was little. The family moved away from the house when she was 7, and for the first time, she wondered if the den was still there. They had chopped down the silver birch that her sister had planted as soon as they settled in, so it wasn’t very likely.
TEXT: The carpark hadn’t been used for a long time. Anyone that drove in, drove out. No one wanted to leave their valuable car in the vacuous space. There were a few cameras, but Giles knew where they were placed, and knew how to avoid them. He had lived there for 2 years now. The 4th floor was his rooftop terrace. If the weather was nice, he would make a hot cup of coffee on his camping stove, take it to the top of the building and survey the city. It was a concrete castle, and he was king.
Disinfectant, a harsh morning waft and a sticky floor. Professor James’ shoes squeaked on the freshly mopped laminate, his weathered hand with rough nails catching on the banister as he ascended. The light from the round glass windows passed over his brown suit, highlighting the threadbare arms and baggy knees.