Leicester Square

Short fiction (appalling WiFi)

Her eyes are the colour of pitch, unreadably warm as she glances down at me. I feel ridiculously small, stretched up towards her in the lights of Leicester Square. “Are you on tiptoes?” She whispers, throwing her head back in a wild, decadent laugh.

Written by

24 year old with an awful lot to say about everything. Opinions entirely my own. Usually. madelaine@madelainehanson.co.uk

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