All five had seen the four wooden targets, thirty feet above their heads, holding the great submarine in place, stark against the glare of the arclight...

Now starting and stopping cannot themselves have starts or stops, or, a fortiori, middles either.

She started up the stairs, changed her mind, and turned to go back down.

From behind the counter of this provincial train station coffee shop, Joanna was barista and unofficial shrink to wildly varied London-bound travellers, writes author Laline Paull. Confessions of a Barista on Platform 1 was published on February 9 by The Firle Press ….