HOW DO STORIES START?

by Ross Sharp

A young woman sits in the smokers’ area outside the building. She hunches over her mobile phone, her knees drawn up almost to her chin, her body a tightly wound coil of defensiveness. As I pace the area, sucking smoke from a cigarette, I overhear her say …

” … nothing happened to you. You happened to them.”

I pace away. I pace back.

Then this …

” … because he feels unwanted. And unloved by everyone.”

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