Copyright David Nicol 2012 - All Rights Reserved
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“Now that's a nice house!” Troy Gilbert-Jones said to no one in particular, and no one in particular listened. If they had, they would have realised that his accent wasn't from the West Wales coast. Troy's accent wasn't from anywhere in Wales, just like the rest of him. Although to look at him, most observers would have realised that he wasn't from around these parts.
This particular coastal village, New Quay, was mostly inhabited by farmers and, when the season was right, city professionals took up temporary residence in their second homes. Neither of those tribes generally wore a mix of hiking boots and corduroy, topped off with a Seattle Seahawks baseball cap. Although they weren't mutually exclusive, the combination marked a visitor to the area, especially the baseball cap. Most caps worn in the area bore logos relating to New York, or Chicago. Seattle was a rarity.
Troy was twenty-six; tall and slim, and somewhat average in the looks department. What he lacked in looks he made up for with his pleasant smile, and warm personality. Troy was the kind of person that people just couldn't help but like. However, his easy manner masked the grief that led him here.