Daily story, July 15, 2025

Halfway through writing his letter, Simon stopped. He normally wrote them in one big harrumph, and the paper published them the same way, unedited. That helped him know he was right. He had felt this one bubbling up the moment he saw the caravans on the school fields. These people who disrupt communities because they don’t have a community of their own. Because they don’t have a place. But halfway through, he looked out of his window at the rows of big dark cars where he used to play. He thought about the pub that was a ruin and the market hall that was a Tesco and the square that was a car park. He closed his email and started searching for caravans.