- Vol. 04
- Chapter 05
She plunges her hand through the surface, breaks the tension which separates the summer air heavy with the scent of roses and barbeques from the underworld swirl of reed and weed and koi carp; which separates this Sunday afternoon of ball games and Wendy houses, of secateurs and weeding, from all the days which follow, numberless, nameless, grey.
She grasps the small arm that floats towards her, the fingers wafting like anemone fronds, the nails, soft and pink, the size of sandshells. She draws up her daughter, limply peaceful as if in milk-sated sleep, through every parent’s dread into a thunderstorm howl that shatters the day.