She was just back home

She was just back, just back home. After years away the world she had known looked different, and people looked at her differently. She had changed too, of course, you could see that in her eyes if she ever allowed you to look into them.

She was asleep and flinching in dreams when the window broke. The half brick hit the cot and glass showered across the room. She screamed and screamed as she picked glass from her baby’s face. Her father ran into the room, face pale, eyes wild. He saw blood on his grandson’s head.

She went to the funeral, of course she did. He was her father, her son’s grandfather. Dressed in black she stood next to her mother in the grey mist and rain. Together they raised their eyes to the sky and the rain mixed with their silent tears. Tomorrow they would move away, the woman, the girl and her boy, move far away from their home, move to a place where their past was not known, where the past did not shadow their lives.

First published on 01 March 2019

Airport reading, listening, writing

I could win a family break in Fuerteventura. I could learn to fear the future if the break-up comes. I could unzip some synapses with some snappy sudoku – or I could just write down the words that other people are saying.

I only called him to say goodbye –
She was locked in the cubicle. She was angry –
If it happens again, I’m not leaving –
If the knife lands on its blade, you’re in trouble. Or on your foot –

Turn it down.
Take it off.
Check it in.
Wipe it up.

But the winter break in Fuerteventura looks very attractive. Especially if I get a family to go with.