The yellowed lampshade on the bedside table goes bright, goes dim. It buzzes, threatens death before settling into a weak, cool glow. Rory says, “I remember when we were eighteen.” She stares at the ceiling, recalling. “We ran through the… Continue Reading
When a shrill scream shocks me from sleep, I work on auto-pilot. Possibilities run through my head and with them the implications. If Kara’s fallen out of bed, her mum will analyse every bruise and bump when I take her… Continue Reading
Ours was a curious love. He would come every day, spending his time working on what I heard him call his “Classic Chevy”; a gargantuan beast of rust and steel, he spoke to it like a female. And I was… Continue Reading