Anna ran a fingertip over the smooth quartzite cabochon in her palm. Her reflected face looked rounder on the stone’s convex meniscus, her eyes almost protuberant. Flecks of gold, caught in streaks of river-brown, winked in the weakening Sunday afternoon sunlight. She addressed the taciturn stallholder. “What’s your best price?” she asked, feigning mere half-interest. He surveyed her from behind darkened… Read it
Author - Sarah Doyle
Sarah's poetry has been placed in several national competitions and published in journals such as The Poetry Society’s Poetry News, Orbis, and The Dawntreader. She is Poet-in-Residence to the Pre-Raphaelite Society, and co-hosts a regular jazz-poetry event in north London. She has recently taken up fiction-writing.