The ball of his feet. Synthetic material. One toe poking out of the sheet, the other foot pressing lightly against my calf. Things feels strange all the time now. I try not to stir him. The lawyer will call in an hour but we’ll both ignore our phones. We’re having an ‘us’ day. Our last day, together. I wonder if sleeping is a waste of time. He snores softly beside me and I suppose not.

Continue reading “Bounce”

Black Sky: by Maame Blue


We haven’t seen Nana; not since the fire. I told friends at school it was a blaze, but I lied, like always. It was just a fire, spreading quickly and evenly throughout our kitchen. We inhaled smoke and the next day we weren’t allowed to eat breakfast. No more cornflakes or rice krispies or even the weetabix that I hated. Everything was just black shapes on a black table with black floors and black ceilings.

Black is beautiful. Never forget this.

Nana said this to me once, when she caught me scrubbing my skin raw in the bath in the middle of the night. Only she and I awake as she wrenched the ghana sponge from my hand.

Why would you do this?

Her eyes always asked questions when her mouth was silent. I told her about the girls at school, the way the boys were, the word dirty 

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Same Ring

So here she was again. Same ring hand. Same stern face. Same pain in her chest. She stared at the phone, her fingers paused momentarily over each number, as if they meant something. It didn’t mean anything though. He wouldn’t call. He never called. She always waited, twisting the ring on her left hand around and around, until she was sure it spun of it’s own accord. Just like them. They hadn’t made a commitment, they had just promised a lie. Well he had. Had she as well? She frowned at the question, but confirmed the answer too. She pressed the green phone button and listened for a tone. It was there, dull and long and mocking her with it’s consistent whine. He wouldn’t call. She put the phone by her side and tried not to look at it. She lay back on the bed and placed her now loose ring on the table. He wouldn’t call.

Written to “Romeo and Juliet” – Lisa Mitchell Version.