Animal Life
Sarah waited by the letterbox, at the end of the cobbled footpath under the tall green trees that filled the front yard and concealed the house from the street in…
Buttercups and Bullets
“Do you like butter?” The yellow petals flutter under my chin. “You do – you love it. You want to marry it,” Alice shrieks.
Selling Yourself
Sabrina is trying to ignore the fact that Mr Bruce Curry has a partially open fly.
The Mississippi Pulls You Under
It was May, and the humidity lay like a wet dog on a porch, panting over the Mississippi River.
My Real Name is Jill
Why ever did my parents call me Jill? I have sometimes wondered. They must have wanted me to be an accountant.