by Steve Tanham
Waking from a deep sleep, Sunday looked up from the leather settee. It was dark; the day had gone. He stood and stretched, glancing across at the Art Deco light he didn’t remember switching on… something on the cabinet was wrong: the tennis racket he didn’t own was too small and labelled ‘Executioner’.
Maybe the redhead had been telling the truth, after all?
©Stephen Tanham.
Sun in Gemini 
Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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Thank you, Ladies. A whimsical change from my normal stuff! And, hopefully, a mystery…
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There will be more, I hope?
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Oh, I think so… I’ve got to figure out what’s going on, too! x
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Now you have done it, planted a seed in my head, one that is desperate to grow…
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Chuckles… oh, good!
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