Mia’s back was aching as she straightened. The mahogany desk had been unwieldy and heavy, thick set drawers sliding in unruly ways as she half pulled, half dragged it through the hallway. It now sat, scratched and fading, by her garden gate. Its legs were scuffed stark white, like scratch marks revealing bone, where she had had to drag it across the pavement. Its top was blotched with rings where ...
