Quiet Plymouth

Quiet PlymouthA Short Storyby Mr PseudonymDaniel Vader looked at the tattered kettle in his hands and felt irritable. He walked over to the window and reflected on his grey surroundings. He had always loved quiet Plymouth with its old-fashioned, odd oceans. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel irritable. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Tony Jones. Tony was a virtuous friend with sticky thighs and squat eyebrows.