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 […]
siouxzi connor 