There was the creaking drag of the boat along the canal. There was the slobbering lap of the water against the sides of the boat. Then there was a shr...ek that made her heart jump to her throat. A second after the shriek, a spotlight flashed on. Two feet in front of the boat was a man stretched out on a torture rack, his arms tearing from their sockets. Veronica could see the red blood oozing from his skin. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. How much longer would this last?. ‘It’s a bit… extreme, isn’t it?’ she continued to herself. ‘Is that what I’ve got to do?’ She took a sip of her coffee, sitting beside her keyboard, and was surprised to find it stone cold. ‘How long have I been sitting here doing nothing?’ ‘I’d best be getting on with some work,’ she thought, ‘I’ll have to spend some time on this later!’ Knowing inside that she was only putting the problem off, she nevertheless turned back to her ‘real-work’ problems, leaving her personal ones in abeyance. – –. More

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