Words, meet page.

Month: October 2019


Monty Goode was a book-seller by trade but on weekends he dabbled in art. The garden he lovingly nurtured with his partner, Arthur, was full of his efforts.There were twenty-eight mini clay Buddhas he had created one Christmas, all nestled amongst the Frangipanis, a mosaic bird bath featuring pieces of a china plate he had hurled at Arthur one night, and a series of plaster of Paris marsupials that stood together, a little sadly, after having sagged in the rain.
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Midnight. That’s when they leave. Warm in her small black Golf, Laura checked her watch. Eleven thirty. She turned the radio up. ABC RN babbled on. She leaned back in her seat. The moon hung above the gumtrees—yellow tonight, like a welcoming light, the round one above a door to some other suburban life.  read more

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