Graeme stared pensively into the blackness beyond the back door. In the shadowy night, he fancied he could sense the presence of countless ghosts, thousands upon thousands of memories given form in the darkness. Each of them represented a moment in someone’s life, a decision made, a path chosen, a whole alternative life lost forever to the void of the unknown. He pictured seven billion people walking the paths of the world, constantly and unknowingly shedding these potentialities like spectral snake-skins.
‘What price the path unwalked?’ he whispered to himself. ‘What cost the life unlived?’
‘What are you mumbling about?’ said Sandra from the other side of the kitchen. ‘Have you not taken the bin out yet?’
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