A man points at my shoes and all are silent. He says: Why do you think you are better than me? All are silent. He says: Are you too clever to answer me? All are silent. He says: What are you hiding in those shoes? All are silent.Read More
Was that it? Was I supposed to feel something? Something other than a sore throat and Raynaud’s in my fingers. I pulled my jumper from around my waist and put it on.
Closure is stupid, I thought to myself. I realised that I was waiting for him to say sorry. I stood up and looked at him for the first time since I’d finished speaking. He was a block of ice.Read More
Without my glasses on, everything hangs in a dream state; fuzzy around the edges, floating an inch off the ground, ghostly and uncertain.Read More
The ink seeps beneath my nails and onto the page. For a few seconds, I pretend I haven’t noticed and let the black run freely down my fingers. I like the way it feels. It’s silky and light and it lets me be anyone.Read More