( app goes here )

January was one of Donna's least favourite months. All the good sales were over, everybody was gradually emerging from the drunken haze of the holidays, and London was a particularly unappealing shade of grey, from the clouds that stubbornly refused to produce snow to the slush underfoot. If she'd had money, she would've gone somewhere else for a ( Read more... )

Donna's convinced she's being stalked. She couldn't tell you who or what is doing the stalking - it's an elusive feeling, nothing more. It comes and goes, like the blinding headaches she's getting all of a sudden. She hasn't mentioned either thing to her mum; she'd just say that she's imagining things, that there's nothing to worry about. And, ( Read more... )