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His name was Raymond Stirling, but to his family and friends he was known as ‘Curly’.
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Drawing herself up from a deep tide of consciousness, Edith opened her eyes.
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I had my first panic attack on a quiet sunny morning in Berlin.
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Josie's start is unexpected.
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Like turning your hand over, things could go either way with the weather.
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Today is the first of September, the first day of spring, and it's been sixty four days since I last saw Sophie Abercrombie.
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I start wearing the family dog, a mini-sheltie, a little Lassie, in an unbleached cotton baby sling across the front of my body like a messenger bag, a few weeks shy of fall.
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Heat shimmered in waves across the Valley of the Kings as the merciless sun baked the desert sands into clay.
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Cindy Thomas was tuned in to her police scanner as she drove through the Friday-morning rush to her job at the San Francisco Chronicle.
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Fourteen-year-old Vicki sat up in bed, her heart racing.
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A young man is taking a shortcut home from the railway station through fields, as he does every day of the week.
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It had been three days since my friend disappeared and I was starting to think the worst might have happened.
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The industrial sliding doors heaved open to a burst of bitter alpine air, a dizzying flurry of snow, and a barrage of hoarse cries
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People ask me, ‘What was she like?
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When they file back into the room, I’m no longer in the chair.
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She sleeps.
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Johnny Casey launched into a fit of energetic coughing – a bit of bread down the wrong way.
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There they go, at the beginning of it all, their younger selves, walking through the dark, winter streets of Sheffield: Daniel Lawrence and Alison Connor.
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There’s a body on the Gurney Street tracks.
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“Since death is certain, but the time of death is uncertain, what is the most important thing?