Appearances "What's the boy saying?" Gaunt hand wavering at me, nails like polished horn (Don't stare, your uncle's old and not well), signet ring a gleam on the wasted flesh (And call him Sir), the long-toothed grin, its awful vacancy ... then "Damn you, woman" - brittle, shrill – "Where are you?" She moved, … Continue reading ‘Appearances’ by Philip Gross