There are ghosts at Covenhoven. I heard them.
I spent part of my time in Fredericton in jail. Not just any jail. An old-school bread-and-water jail.
Sometimes the call in the middle of the night isn’t a prank or wrong number. Sometimes it’s exactly what you fear a call in the middle of the night will be.
I did not say “I told you so.” Even once. I just kept driving.
The fuel arm was as low as it could possibly go, lower than I’d ever seen it. Low enough it’d need therapy to recover.