kiwisue (kiwisue) wrote,


Meme from hambelandjemima and others:
Post a single sentence from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations. No more than one sentence!

He though that there was something off about the way Bodie looked, some strangeness, but the exactness of it eluded him, caught up as he was in the tense mood of the moment.

Ever since he’d started back at work, mornings only with time off in the afternoon for appointments and physio, Bodie danced attendance on him.

She looked almost as good as the last time he'd seen her, but there were hints of wear and tear that he could detect around her eyes, muscular stress markers that showed even though her skin looked smooth and clear.

So he sat there, and Bodie sat too, from time to time casting an inconsequential remark or two in each other’s direction.

It was almost Advent and Christmastide was fast approaching, yet the army rode, and camped, and rode and camped again.

He adjusted the angle downwards a little and Doyle prepared to feed a second bomb into the mouth of the tube.

Here was somewhere in the Lammamuir hills – he'd registered that much – and he was stumbling off the side of a bitumen road, down to a rocky stream where he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of ice-cold water, too late, much too late.
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