She takes the pain, takes it so well. This is evident the moment she enters the upscale coffee shop in downtown Palo Alto. She is on the arm of a trim man with artfully tousled hair, two-day growth, and Bono sunglasses. Or rather, he is on her arm, his fist wrapped around her slender biceps, steering her, conveying ownership. Experience has taught her.
Bringing up the rear is a head-taller, broad-chested specimen of a bodyguard, ex-military judging by hair and posture. His deferential bearing suggests that when tasked, he also performs the services of a personal assistant, as do most employees in the orbit of the very rich. He is youthful. His body fat is single digit; muscles sheathe him like armor.
In the corner of the shop, a man notes this little retinue over a lifted cup of espresso.
He is around thirty years old, not too handsome, unobtrusive. Just an average guy.
- Saga #7;
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- Once Upon A Time There Was You (Living Your Story Book 1).
At his feet sits a bag bulky with night-vision gear handed to him hours ago through the rear door of a Sand Hill office in exchange for a banded stack of bills. He is not a regular in the Bay Area; having collected what he came for, he has pit-stopped for a quick cup before the five-hour haul back to Los Angeles.
The Nowhere Man
But now his interest is piqued by this woman and the man clamped to her. The coffee shop on University Avenue gets all kinds—or rather all Silicon Valley kinds. A trio of Scandinavian engineers in their Dockers and rumpled short-sleeve button-ups. Entrepreneurs-to-be hunched over slender silver laptops, plugged into headsets. The only person who can help her is a man with the background and the skills of the Nowhere Man. Also contains an extended excerpt from the Orphan X thriller— Out of the Dark.
Those excited to spend some more time with Orphan X can pre-order The Intern , available December 18th, here. He currently lives in Southwest Michigan with his wife and their six children. Michael Straczynski, a screenwriter and co-creator of […]. Michael Straczynski, a screenwriter and co-creator […].
Not many years ago when his wife died, he was about to be arrested for throwing her ashes into the Thames. Britain is changing color because of all the immigrants who have arrived from its colonies.
- The Nowhere Man.
- Flash Fiction – The Nowhere Man | Graeme Reynolds's Blog.
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Whole neighborhoods suddenly look different and — as has happened so many times in other Western countries — those at the bottom are threatened, fearing that their jobs will disappear to the much harder-working immigrants and that these new foreigners will soon get rich. So they bought a house, a gaunt old building in South London. Which was not difficult to do in that nervous year before the Second World War, when there were more sellers than buyers. Vasantha selected it, basing her requirements with an eye to the future when her sons, at this point aged thirteen and fourteen, would be grown up and married.
Then the loving mother-in-law would allocate one upper floor to each son and wife, and the ground floor reserved for themselves, ageing parents who would be past climbing the stairs. All this despite certain distinct possibilities, which she accepted, and having done so sailed serenely past the rubble.
What had to be, would be: meanwhile one had to plan. So the house was acquired, under whose rafters Srinivas now sat. A house with basement and attic which they had not wanted, which were immutably linked with two-storey structures. When the deed was done, and No. A place of our own, where we can live according to our lights although in alien surroundings: and our children after us, and after them theirs.
If Kamala Markandaya were alive today she would no doubt be horrified by the millions of refugees throughout the world who, for one reason or another, have nowhere to go.