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Weekly Contest #222
There was something about the dark, empty streets of London at night that felt like a warm embrace. Escapism? Was that what these 11pm post-library walks were? Tegan asked herself, as she strolled across the concrete, her current favourite song purring in her ears as the inky River Thames came into view. Escapism was what a lot of people liked to imply Tegan indulged in. Her mother, for example, who said it kindly, for she reminded her of her at that age. And Brently, who insinuated it with a sneer whilst questioning her ma...
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