The village is deserted and the fields still, the grey sky stretching ahead, merging with the horizon
A mist lingers in the distance, settling on the grass mound where the destroyed barn stood a few days ago
Grass blows near the stile. Soggy leaves gather by fences
The two friends stop for Sunday lunch at a country pub and order a roast








I easily formed images from your descriptions. I also read one of your stories on quitting smoking. I’d say your writing is excellent.