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¨Rare Earth”

By late afternoon the heat had started coming off the yacht club. Kids were running around the tables, gulls were working the chips, and the water slapped under the dock. Nobody was sailing. Tony came back from the bar with four beers. “Forty-eight fucking dollars.” “Market forces,” said Mitch. “Fuck off.” “Supply and demand.” “There… Continue reading ¨Rare Earth”

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Danmark

Silje had been at the table for perhaps ten minutes before Isobel asked what she did. “Mostly weather and atmospheric modelling.” Greg looked interested. “Weather lady?” “I suppose, if you want to make several years of university sound like I own a raincoat.” “I was thinking more pretty lady on the telly.” “No telly.” “Shame.… Continue reading Danmark

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FOFO

Anna turned the empty crisp packet over in her hands as though the manufacturer might have printed an apology on the back. “That’s the whole problem,” she said. “Nothing knows where to go when we’re finished with it.” Adam looked into his pint. “Beers knows.” Marcin leaned across the table. “Marin.” “What?” “My name. It… Continue reading FOFO