Even the sound of a microwave oven terrified him. This was why he had avoided microwave cooking for just over a week. All he had to eat in his house was a shoe cupboard full of boxed meals, all of which were, necessarily, microwaveable. How daunting the quantity in which they had accumulated, these microwaveable meals. He had to put one of them in the microwave, and eat it. His ribcage was showing. He was wan and thin, sickly in frame and stare.
Read MoreThey had been a happy family for many years. There was an uncle who lived in a dark cupboard: he didn’t wear clothes anymore and walked about on all fours. His eyes had turned inwards from not needing to see for so long, so when he looked at you there was no iris, only a lens of grey albumen. The only time he saw the sun was on his weekly walk to the playground, leashed: so he couldn’t attack the mothers.
Read MoreMrs. Willen wiped off the 14th February from the whiteboard with the rag. She felt a flush of heat and put down the rag. In its place she wrote, quite deliberately, quite carefully: 15th February. Her handwriting was large, square and clear. Then she took up the rag once more and erased the 15. A lone th was left, looking blankly at her from the whiteboard.
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