Richard Lakin

Richard likes writing short stories and it stops him staring at other passengers on the train.

  • Last Breakfast

    Hail rattled the wood like buckshot. ‘Thank God!’ He snapped on the latch and slumped back against the door, wiping the mist from his glasses with a sleeve. The blood roared in his ears, the lobes beginning to tingle. The walls of the cottage were three-feet thick, it was like stepping into a vacuum. She…