#reservoir13

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Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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The metallic smell of coming rain rose up and the air felt charged and tight. There was a tingling before the first fat drops fell and they came as a letting go.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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A flock of fieldfares lifted from the elder trees on the bank behind the school, climbing out of the valley and heading north-east towards the reservoirs, the hills, the North Sea, Norway.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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He straightened his back and lifted his head and made himself a larger vessel for the difficult feelings.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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Frank Parker experienced the brief turmoil of being offended and grateful at the same time.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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The room felt brand new. She’d never felt so at home.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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There were cowslips under the hedges and beside the road, offering handfuls of yellow flowers to the longer days.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor

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There was a volume to what was not being said.

Reservoir 13 — by Jon McGregor