All is Risk, is it Not? – A short story
by Gabrielle Blondell Max was running the blade of the trimmer along the top of a hedge when the removal van came to a wheezy standstill in front of the house next door. He stood on his toes, still trimming away, but squinting through his safety glasses. Bruich Removals, it said, white lettering on black across the side of the van. A dark grey, sporty sedan came next and a man emerged from it. He strode up the path of the neighbouring house to the front door, jostling in his pocket and extracting a bunch of keys. “Sorry lads,” he called to the two brick-shapedRead More →