Flash Frog

My husband is building a spacecraft in our garage. An actual spacecraft from RYMDFARTYG, IKEA’s troubled cousin. Seventeen flat-pack boxes. 847 steps. The neighbor’s dog won’t stop barking at it. Sometimes screws hover before settling. Six months now. “Does the spacecraft frighten you?” our…

She came childless. Amongst our clutter on the concrete bench, she sat with her designer tote bag. A blue shark hooded towel and a rainbow bottle peeked out. We watched her watch the pool, the skin around her eyes worn. We masked our unease….

Our parents didn’t believe in the Easter bunny. They said it wasn’t the real story. And instead of us kids chowing down on chocolate eggs we were in the chook shed grading the real ones. Picking feathers from the shitty eggs, wiping them clean…