HOW WE MET

Rain lashed ferociously at the window. Lightning flashed. The thunder rumbled a few seconds later.

Jane had turned the armchair to the window and was watching the storm, tapping her pen on her notepad. She was trying to think of the next line – actually the second line – of a short story, but her thoughts had veered into a creative cul-de-sac.

‘You should never start a story with a weather report,’ Larry said.

And Jane flinched, not realising he had crept up behind her. She hadn’t heard him come back into the room. She hastily turned her pad over and sat upright. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘Haven’t they even taught you the basics yet?’

‘It wasn’t actually the start of a story.’ Although that was a lie, because it was. ‘I was just jotting down some ideas.’ If she could call them that.

‘And wishing you were elsewhere, by the look of it. What was the next bit?’ He reached for her notepad, but she