Stories.

The neighbour kicks off his sandals and swipes his bare feet on the mat, three times each, one foot and then the other. Eddie is impressed;...

That night, staring into the dark, I noticed that I could see the edges of the sockets of my eyes. It was like looking through binoculars; a...

Last night I did a new etching. I’d been sitting at my kitchen table leafing through a book of Edward Hopper paintings, my fingers through t...

The kitchen door slams closed behind her and Amanda leans heavily against the white washed brick of the courtyard wall. It’s already gone te...

We are talking about the night that Michael set his hand on fire when he comes over to say “Hello”. We are even sitting at our old-favourite...

Catherine in her flat house shoes, watch swinging at her wrist, hair in a bun tighter than knitting climbs the stairs again, feet heavy with...

“If only,” he said, “you had curly hair.” We were lying on a blanket in the sun, in the park. The newspapers were heaped at our feet. I had ...