This is some of the writing from my story ‘Follow the Light’

And we are off, bleary-eyed, into the Ayrshire morning. Emmy
looks gorgeous, her short blonde hair and a smile that I would
never tire of seeing.

My car sitting on the street coughs up a cloud of exhaust fumes
as I turn the key. A few commuters on their way to the station do
a double-take, but we breeze past them, leaving them choking
in our wake.

We get a good run of lights as we hit the dual carriageway.
I light up a smoke, and she flicks through the radio until she
finds something she likes. The radio crackles to life with one of
those old songs you know but can’t quite place.

For a moment, it’s like we aren’t ghosts at all.

We sing along to the chorus. She looks at me, and I look straight back.
The engine opens up on the dual carriageway and we are cutting
through the Ayrshire morning.

We’re analogue in a digital age; we’re radio in the streaming
age.

We are the words written on the page.

And we don’t give a fuck if that’s good enough for you.

She laughs.

Welcome to the moment.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon