It’s not too bad, but, sadly, too chicklit-ish: the plot is excellent minus the love story (especially that boring schtick about dependancy and rejection). Overall, 3 out of 5.
“It’s the old glass,” said Joyce, holding her hand up to the window. “Not like modern glass, see? It distorts.”
She’s right about that. Not all, but some of the panes are thick and swirled.
What I saw, thought I saw, must have been a reflection of a reflection. The glass buildings across the street projecting images onto my window. I’ve spooked myself, that’s all.
“Well, you know where I am, my dear,” said Joyce. “At least till six o’clock, and then I’ll be in the Golden Heart. The pub on the corner.” ©
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