Asylum

Sunday waited, as he had been told, as the lorry rumbled off the ferry. It slowed at the roundabout. He jumped down from the axle and walked casually away. As he had been told. He had no luggage, only his precious book, tucked inside his vest. He was giddy from eight hours bobbing across the North Sea.. All he wanted was a country that was democratic and respectful of human life. All Rosa wanted was somewhere safe. Away from the bad things of the past. With perhaps a garden, even very small, with good earth to grow things. . What Sunday and Rosa got was Hawk Rise. Seventeen storeys of it. Condemned.