Tag: Prose

On Saturday nights, we have dinner at a restaurant she selects from a list on her phone of Trivago’s Top Places to Eat Out in our city. This is our thing, our couple’s thing.   In the bathroom mirror, I watch her reflection sweep black liner across her glossy eyelids as I struggle to gel…

‘I can see all of Sydney from up here. It’s fucking beautiful, Mum!’ were the last words my son would speak to me. Or shout, rather, from the top of the Norfolk Pine. Then would come the creek and snap of its tallest branches, the thumping of my heart, and the thud of his body,…

I’m sitting at the window seat on the lower level of a train, caked in layers of clothing like strata. I’m early but the train was already here getting cleaned, and they said I could sit inside to keep out of the chill. It’s frozen and dark out there, with the dingy station’s lights not…