Short Story Sunday: Sakharov Gardens

"Come on, Rolf."

Ali looked on as the hound ignored her summons and continued digging his way to China -- or so it would seem. She wouldn't normally have minded, but they were in the public gardens and she didn't think the municipality would take kindly to having to fill in the craters he was creating at alarming speed. She tugged harder on the leash.

"Heel, boy!"

The voice came from behind them and Rolf abandoned his task, sitting guiltily at Ali's feet.

"I'm sorry about my dog," Ali began. "He just loves digging." She shrugged, hoping they would get away with a warning and a friendly smile.

"I know. I've been watching you."

Short Story Sunday: A Suitable Man [Part One]

The man at number seven was having his first cigarette of the day. Julia awakened to the sound of his lungs resisting the tobacco fumes. She lay still, not  wanting to disturb Franklin. After a moment, she raised her head and noticed that he was not in his usual spot at the end of the bed. Her phone beeped with the alarm. That would make it the third time this week that she was awake to turn it off. The man at number seven scraped open his kitchen window. She really ought to move.