I look up to see Emily’s face filling the sky.
“What are they doing?” she asks, the flawless skin of her forehead wrinkling into a frown.
I lift her down from my shoulders and onto the black soil at the reservoir’s edge. The clothes of the people grouped nearby are of a similar shade. Their heads are bowed and faces sombre as an extremely old lady tosses a handful of white petals out onto the inky water.
“"Chris Simms knows how to build tension in the space of a few short pages like no other. Read him at your heart rate's peril!"”
Maxim Jakubowski, Editor, Best British Crime short story anthologies