The Rain That Hammered Like Talking Foxes

The Rain that Hammered like Talking Foxes A Short Story by Mr Pseudonym Tristan Donaldson was thinking about Tom Clifford again. Tom was a remarkable banker with sloppy legs and ample fingernails. Tristan walked over to the window and reflected on his dirty surroundings. He had always loved hilly Exeter with its difficult, disturbed ditches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel cross.