I miss the touch. That is what I think as I stare past the glass into the nursery. The carefully ordered squares of wildflowers beyond do not, I imagine, stare back. If they did, I’m sure it would be with narrowed eyes and venomous thoughts.
Read MoreEverywhere I went, there was a person. Nowhere in sight could I find an empty landscape, a clean sheet of grass, a skyline without a skyscraper. My car couldn’t take me away fast enough, as it grumbled all the way to Dartmoor.
Read MoreI woke up and the first thing I saw was a mini blackboard on my windowsill, underneath which someone had scribbled a schedule of events from eight to eight for each day of the week. I reminded myself that I had written that timetable, not someone else. The chalk didn’t write it, nor a past version of myself that was somehow separate from my current being. Just me.
Read MoreJune was alone on the grass in the middle of her garden. One of her chubby hands was buried deep in a jar of squelchy strawberry jam that her mother had left as she ran inside…
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