• They Would Be Expecting Her

    The ship was bobbing in a way that wasn’t aimless but struck her as incorrect. She had set out on a path and ended up here without wind or purpose. It didn’t look like the place she had imagined when she set out.

    She plotted a new route with careful consideration of the bumps and detours that had spilled her here. She shifted the rigging toward her new destination and the wind picked up even as she did.

    The sails began to billow as the wind filled them, slowly at first and then with a rapidity that she didn’t know how to handle but that she was confident would move her forward. The ship moved fiercely now and she made steadfast progress toward the coastline. She could see it now. The forms on the horizon were morphing into recognisable shapes.

    Without even looking too closely she knew that everything and everyone she loved would be waiting for her there.

    They would be expecting her.

  • The Gentle Hush Of The Hybrids

    The only sounds were those made by passing cars: the gentle hush of the hybrids, the hissing growls of the buses, the thunderous syncopation of braking trucks.

    There was a breeze but the air was warm enough to keep dispositions unpleasant. Heat could still be felt radiating from the asphalt, though the sun had gone down long before. Fifty feet away a woman of indeterminable age smoked a cigarette and stood as though she were waiting on her life to come and pick her up. Judging by the look on her face, it was running late.

    The breeze inflated a plastic grocery bag and stirred it into spastic motion that wouldn’t have been noticed at times when the sun was up and traffic was heavier and kids could be seen climbing into large family vehicles and heard laughing as they anticipated the ride to come.

    This was not that time, though, and the smoking woman knew it as she rubbed the butt of her cigarette into the asphalt but did not check her watch or her phone or ask me what time it was.

    This was a place where bad stories began.

  • The Cool Metal Of This Pistol

    His only thoughts were about the cool metal of this pistol and how good Kristie looks in jeans. The two thoughts stirred different yet equally dangerous feelings within him.

  • He Had No Speaking Lines

    He could not escape the feeling that he had often heard described by actors: that he was merely a character in a movie in which everybody else was starring.

    He had no speaking lines. The camera never focused on him. He was the unpaid extra in the back of the shot; the actor whose facial expressions are incongruent with those worn by the other, more skilled thespians.

    Audiences would only notice him after repeated viewings of the film began to sand the edges off of their captivation. Their eyes would drift away from the stars and land on him. They would wonder why he looked so out of place. Had he wandered off of another set? What is his story?

    Then the scene would change and the anxiety his presence had caused would subside as the memory of him faded.

  • Reality Crept Into Her Psyche

    Dreaming of X caused her trouble. She would awake to a kind of altered reality in which they were together not here, but in a very familiar version of here. X was gone – maybe off to work – but their paths would cross soon enough.

    Her manner of speech would change to suit this new reality, in the same manner it tended to change when she spoke on the phone to clients. The edges of her accent softened, her tone became warm and accommodating. She assumed an air of self-assurance and it drew others to her but she rejected their advances because she would soon be reunited with her love.

    However, the day would unfold with no messages from X. No emojis blowing digital kisses. No sweet nothings. The power of the fantasy depleted like a draining battery as reality crept into her psyche and took command once again. They were not together. The romance was a fantasy.

    She would return home to find the apartment empty. The only bric-a-brac belonged to her. She had only sleep to look forward to.
    Asleep, she would see X for sure.

    X’s lips tasted the sweetest in dreams.

  • Her Jeans

    It was hot enough outside that all I could think about was taking off her jeans.

    MY jeans!

    … my jeans.

  • My Usual Table at Wheat Cafe

    This is one of my favourite spots to read: my usual table at Wheat Cafe. It’s just downstairs from the day job and the ham & cheese toastie is on point (don’t forget the mustard).

    I’m still reading The Corrections even as I keep getting distracted by other books. It’s a good problem to have, but I’m knuckling down now.

  • Nostalgic For A Place I Have Never Been

    The signal changes but I’m not on board. The train moves ever forward but I remain standing. At the end of the line friends will meet at a cafe and enjoy the breeze that always rolls through the suburb at four o’clock but the air here is still. They will reminisce about other afternoons spent in the breeze but I cannot participate.

    I am nostalgic for a place I have never been.

  • Today Is An Exciting Day

    Today I officially start my PhD at the University of Technology, Sydney.

    Today is an exciting day.

  • The Tires Were No Longer Humming

    She had only noticed how little light there was inside the car when two headlights appeared down the road and illuminated the entire front seat. Stray beams of light made it all the way to where she was strapped into the back seat.

    “Look at this clown,” her dad said. She looked around but didn’t see any clowns. Surely all the clowns were still back at the fair.

    Grace had never driven a car or paid much attention to the motion of cars other than the ones being confidently coaxed along by her father. For this reason the headlights of the oncoming car didn’t appear left of centre and even if they had it wouldn’t have struck her as odd.

    “Honey!” came a shrill scream that could only belong to her mother but it was hard to tell over the terrible shriek of rubber grinding on wet asphalt.

    The beams of light that had found their way to the back seat now ran away in an unnatural manner and there was a long moment of calm that Grace would never be able to forget. It was a calm that spanned generations and transcended all linear perceptions of time. It was a black hole of silence and still that absorbed all energy before regurgitating it back in the form of a loud percussive smashing thud on the side of the car.

    The whole car lurched sideways and Grace became aware that the tires were no longer humming on the road. All momentum pulled her body to the left and then she felt the same weightlessness she had experienced on the swinging pirate ship earlier in the afternoon after her second orange soda. Her third orange soda was splashing in her face but she didn’t know why.

    She felt her weight pulling on her seatbelt as the can of soda slipped from her grip. The entire car groaned. She could see a tree out the windshield but it was upside down and that didn’t make sense to her.

    After the sight of the tree there was only dark.