Lanre • Ajayi

A wallet, a dead-end alley, and two people the city has already made up its mind about. What they think and what they dare say are not the same thing.

A night shift, a taxi office, and a phone that will not stop ringing.

A cold-blooded job, executed to the letter. The letter was the problem.

An ordinary appointment. An ordinary house. Broad daylight.

A family, a house, and a knock at the door that was always coming.

Inside the glass it is always snowing, and everyone is happy. But one small girl on the bridge can see a morning no one else believes in — and she will not look away.

The last bus of the night, and a long way to the end of the line. Your tap rings the bell.

A little chick, quite sure he's the greatest flyer in the world, sneaks off while his mother sleeps — and finds out the world is bigger, and he is smaller, than he thought.

A bedtime story about waiting, and listening, and what might be at the window.

Three knocks, at the wrong hour. Nobody is expected.

One story in fifteen chapters, told by five people and a dog — each of whom sees only their own piece of it.

A soldier, a stranger, and a flickering bulb between them.