marramgrass

A number of years ago, the wife of a local farmer died in an accident on the level crossing beside a cottage where we sometimes holiday. There follows my revision of a short piece I wrote that summer while we were staying in the cottage.
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Over the summer, I was flicking through an old notebook and I found a couple of things I wrote a few years ago that didn’t make me cringe too much. Against my better judgement, I throw them on the mercy of the world.
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