Steve's Place

I came to Stoney Stanton because I’d heard mixed things and wanted to see what this unusual village was really like, and maybe hunt some wild wildlife to eat. Steve seemed worried about how I looked when I arrived. I’m not handsome, but harmless, and he showed me to my room. The pork pie and pickle left on the bed were a nice surprise, and the towels felt good on my skin, with no irritation or rash. I had the feeling someone was listening through the wall, and I’m fairly sure it was the owner, though I can’t prove it. I also saw a few shadows pass in the hallway. It scared me a bit. I’m only 5ft 4 and not a very capable man, so I get frightened easily. For breakfast I ate most of it with Steve in his kitchen. He gave me the last of his beans, which was kind, and shaped my full English around my initials, a classy little touch I didn’t expect. Steve offered to share a can of Stella at breakfast, and I said yes. Lovely, gentle bloke, though I didn’t like his views on the NHS.