Almost finished now – Dennis chewed the plastic top of his pen thoughtfully. “Black…black seeds … no, petals of black – seeds? no, petals of black beetling grain,” hmm, that’d do it, for now. “Capture the essence of the flower,” he could still hear Mrs Cunliffe saying and he’d spent the best part of an hour trying to do what she’d asked. Dennis glanced through the window again nervously – it was early. Early, and he still had the whole day ahead of him for investigating. Funny that, again he could have sworn … but he knew that he often felt uneasy, often felt observed. “Get a grip, man,” he muttered to himself.
How about that for a start?
