She was never one for reading the manual. Impatient, she would only ever scan the quick-start guides: filing heavy instructions…
We peer anxiously through the crack in your door: unwanted carol singers. You have made a fortress of your memories, happy photographs…
If I were a tree I definitely wouldn’t be a Silver Birch — tall and glamorous, aloof, turning the admiring heads of passers-by…
Bippity bip. “Don’t forget me”, sang the fridge, too chirpily given the circumstances. Despite its calls for attention, the milk…
Two forests and a river appeared at the foot of the stairs of the flats where she lived.
We were feral. Our days were filled with adventures. While our mom worked, we’d slip out of the window, away from under the watchful…
I stare at the photograph.
Lucy: Hi! John, isn’t it? Hi! The kettle’s just boiled. Are you having tea? Coffee? Can I pass you something?