The Point
It was that time of year again, the time where the seasons are changing from spring to summer, when the fresh morning dew sits delicately on the grass and flowers, as the sweet morning sun filters softly over everything in sight. I sat down on the old wooden bench as I pulled my cardigan across my chest and crossed my arms. I let out a deep sigh as I looked out across the village below, it was slowly coming to life in the early morning light. The newsagent was opening the corner shop and...