The T-Team With Mr B (2)

Mr. B poked his head through the window. ‘What? You’re not going to take any photos, David?’
‘No, my camera’s not working,’ Dad replied.

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After catching the sun’s rays spreading over the mountains, we ate our muesli breakfast admiring the view…until the others in our party made an appearance.
Let’s just say that for some members, the novelty of early starts had worn off.



I clutched my stomach. ‘Dad, I’m hungry.’
‘Later,’ he promised.
However, later produced no food. My famished state evolved into near starvation.
‘Dad!’ I moaned. ‘I’m hungry!’
‘Not just yet.’ Dad hurried up the main road.
Shuffling behind him, I muttered, ‘If you won’t, I’ll get it myself.’

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Monday Memories

“Grandma, can I excuse the table?” I asked.
Grandma chuckled. “You mean, be excused from the table, dear.”
I nodded and then pushed my chair from the old wooden table.
“Yes, you may, but don’t go too far,” Grandma said. “Go only to the end of the road and then you must turn back.”
“I will.”

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Disrupt Sleep

The wind worked its gusty fingers under the stiff plastic and lifted it into the air. I caught the sheet and held it down. Cold blasts froze my fingers. The wind flapped the end bits making my toes turn to ice.

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