Heart to heart
Bell, Lewis My stomach knotted as i stepped off the train onto Petersfield's deserted platform. The wheels on my suitcase clunked on the concrete, echoing through the station as I dragged it behind me.
Why was I doing this to myself?
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I attempted to swal-low. I was parched or stupidly nervous for no reason. Running my free palm over my jeans, I made my way to the kiosk for a bottle of water. That packet of Maltese...