peachpenumbra@googlemail.com
17/05/10
Thin clouds spill across the sky like split mayonnaise, distilling dusk light and making the concrete of the patio look damp. I sit on the bottom step and tread the lawn between my toes, a novel dangling from my fingers. I used to give myself to over books wholly, and devour complete chapters in minutes, but I lost this skill late in adolescence. A faint film of dirt sticks to the balls of my feet, and the feeling is nearly unpleasant, as if pushing a thumb through overripe pear when expecting the soft give of firmer flesh. I shiver indulgently.
