The Natural End to Things (extract from new short fiction)

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The Natural End to Things (extract from new short fiction)

As I cycled, my mind turned to wondering, morbidly, which street in Melbourne John had his accident on. Wanting to picture it. Wanting to visit the corner or the tram tracks or the intersection or wherever it was. He’d tell me I was being backward, but if I knew the spot, I’d leave a letter for him there. In the letter I’d say that he’d made an impact on me like no one else. That he’d made me sad and angry and lonely but that I’d understood. He moved on. He was proof of the unreality of things in nature, when he was liable to change and to change himself. We all have our properties but they are not inalienable. We think they are, but we’re wrong. Like how the sun appears to have solar properties but it is always in the process of becoming a non-sun. A dying star. He proved this to me. The natural end to things.

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