Chapter VII – A Transatlantic Flight
“It might be proper to remove your sunglasses,” said Ypres. Her lobster eyes were staring at me. Intent, no doubt, on pairing her words with incontestable seriousness. I was busy going through the latest fashion magazines at the WHSmith in Heathrow’s Terminal 5. I was studying an ad for a glorious Dior dress when Ypres… Continue reading Chapter VII – A Transatlantic Flight