It was a dull day. Well, weren't they all? The cold, grey sky covered the small town of Winterbourne like a suffocating blanket. It seemed to radiate gloom over the people, their small, insignificant lives blocked out by this mass of grey. The pavements were grey. The roads were grey. Even the odd tabby caught eating from a dustbin, was a shade of grey. Business men in crumpled fraying suits scuttled to and from along the pavements, -morning cup of coffee in one hand, over packed briefcase in the other- continuing with their dull grey lives. Almost everything in this small town was ordinary, not a single weed out of line or plastic bag fluttering in the wind like a lost ghost. Any passer by would almost immediately forget the place, so normal it was, but, like all good stories, this town had a twist.
