O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.

Spring is the twong! twock! of the tennis court and a new crack jagging along the concrete. Spring is pants cuffs filled with new clipped grass.

What she was experiencing was an absence of sounds in general, not my own peculiar distinction of noises no longer heard: the screeching of pulley-wheels as rainyday washings rose to beflag the ceiling; the thump of doors closing […]

The villagers petitioned the council to demolish the dangerous building.