The four of them were wedged around the sticky table near the window, where a napkin kept fluttering up every time the draught from the broken door swept through. Someone outside had parked a 2006 WRX with a wing so big it could have been classified as renewable infrastructure. “Did you read that Burn-Murdoch piece?”… Continue reading Stalled
Category: Writing
Nachos
Someone at the table was already halfway through a schooner and two bad ideas. “…sets, mate? You’re still on about sets?” “Not tennis sets, you clown.” “Well you said sets, and we’ve just had the bloody Australian Open shoved down our throats for three weeks. Every time I turned on the telly it’s some bloke… Continue reading Nachos
Bored games
Same pub, but later.The kind of evening where the light’s gone yellow and the wind’s picked up just enough to move rubbish along the footpath like it’s got somewhere important to be. A chip packet skitters past the window, followed by a receipt, then half a betting slip that refuses to lie flat. Inside, it… Continue reading Bored games
Finite
“…between zero and one there’s an infinite number of numbers.” “Yeah, yeah, we know.” “Right, so then a set with zero and one in it already contains infinity.” “No it doesn’t, that’s not how sets work.” “That’s not how numbers work either, and yet here we are.” “Hang on—so you’re saying zero and one is… Continue reading Finite
Sydney 2026
Adam was already two beers in and still annoyed about something that had happened ten minutes ago. “Five-fifty pitch,” he said again, like saying it often enough might stop it being wasted. “You don’t force that. Ever.” Marcin didn’t look up from the screen. “You say that now. Same bloke who tried to reverse sweep… Continue reading Sydney 2026
New Year
New Year’s Day.Sun already doing damage.That hot, clean Fremantle light where everything feels forgiven too early. They’re wedged outside by the water, tables sticky with last night’s ambition. Someone’s thongs are under the wrong chair. Someone else hasn’t bothered finding theirs. Salt in the air, yeast in the air, a faint smell of regret and… Continue reading New Year
Boxing day
They were already arguing before anyone remembered why they’d come out. The Sandbar smelled like hot oil and damp carpet, the sort of place that claimed “coastal vibes” despite being three suburbs from the water. Mitch was at the bar first, talking to the bartender about how sustainability was just “risk hedging dressed up as… Continue reading Boxing day
Missing Summer
Adelaide Oval, Day 2, sun sharp enough to peel paint.Plastic pints everywhere, Barmy Army already half-feral. Adam, Marcin, Anna and Isobel parked under the scoreboard, pretending the heat is “character-building.” England ticking along nicely, which everyone knows is a bad omen. Adam:Look at that—England have a bat. Every Pom in the ground acting like we’re… Continue reading Missing Summer
Ch.7
Loose stools, rings on the table, similar universe as before. summer, cicadas, shower an hour or so ago, some drips, heat of the day fading Adam was already a few drinks in when Marcin said it. “I still think you’re smuggling time in through the back door,” Marcin said, staring into his glass like it… Continue reading Ch.7
The BBQ
Needs some more vernacular.... Mick: (staring at the rusted bloody barbecue)Everything ever created is unique, they say. Look at this thing. Unique my arse. It’s just bent metal, melted knobs and regret. Rhea:Nah mate, that particular pattern of bent metal and regret has never happened before and never will again. Tom:That’s beautiful, that is. Shakespeare,… Continue reading The BBQ
Ceteris Paribus 