The pub was quiet, the doors locked, the last of the late night stragglers ushered out and sent home,
either stumbling down the street singing a drunken off-key serenade to the stars or being tucked safely into cabs Tom had called for the ones who lived too far to walk.
There was an odd sense of anticipation in the air, but I didn't have a clue what it was about...and none of the guys, not even Ewan, was talking.
They just exchanged looks every now and then, none of them bothering to clean up the pub or even clear the glasses off the tables. It was making me nervous.
making me nervous.
It had been like this for days - that odd feeling of something in the air, a series of strange events, nothing huge or blatant,
just little things that rubbed that part of my conscious that prickled up when things weren't quite right.
That little part that makes you look out the window when you aren't sure what you're looking for, expecting to see something but not knowing if you'd recognize it if it was there.
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