Speckles in the Sky is a tiny piece of magical realism I wrote for a friend’s retirement, because, obviously, I’ll do anything to get out of trying to think of something witty to say in three square millimetres on a card. It starts like this:

‘Coming on nicely,’ said the man jogging by. ‘Nearly there.’
Lynda turned to check out the source of this odd intrusion. Her heels spun and she almost lost her balance; damn council, leaving the pavements in disrepair. She twisted back again and found herself rotating the other way, like a rapper’s disc on a concrete turntable. Maybe it wasn’t the pavement, maybe it was the wine …

And it finishes over on TPS.