By Carl Schonbeck
By now it was a tradition. They met for dinner just before Christmas every year, usually at Trevor and Kate’s elegant flat in Wycombe Lane. In all there were three couples; Alan and Mary, Justin and Edie plus their hosts. They’d been friends for years and, as one might expect, the mood on these occasions was festive. Yet there was another, more serious reason for these get-togethers. They were there to remember a friend, Peter, the seventh member oft his small tribe, had died suddenly three years earlier. They were there to recall the times they’d had with Peter and celebrate their continuing friendship.
Argomenti: carl schonbeck, fiction
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