The tree stood in front of a vacant block at the end of the street. It had thick, leafy branches and was easy to climb. It was Matty's special place. And then, one day, he saw a sign on it. Matty couldn't read the big words and went to find his sister. Jess was a school captain, so she'd know what the sign said.
Their eyes locked across a crowded room at the cocktail bar. He looked well-heeled and handsome, and his brazen gaze told her he knew it. But she was his equal with pert features and confidence. They raised their glasses to each other. And then found themselves crushed shoulder to shoulder at the bar.
The policewoman at the front of the Court is trying to catch my eye. I have a thing for women in uniform. It's what attracted me to my wife. That night we met, in the pub across the road from the hospital where she worked as a nurse. I couldn't stop fantasising about the front zip on her uniform.
The night became preternaturally dark, but still Elias kept moving. He had been walking for around four hours. When he stopped for a moment to look up, he could make out the lightless form of the mountain. A firmament of brilliant stars, the Milky Way, stretched across the sky.
Nadine lies on her mattress on the floor of the attic. She stares up at the naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling and the moth circling it. Wind gusts through cracks under the doors and windows, whistling down hallways and upstairs, carrying with it storm-muffled moans of Paul and the new housemate.
"And the winner is–" Zoom freezes on my laptop. But I don't care. From the gallery director's opening comments in her awards speech, praising this year's portraits, it's clear my landscape has not caught the judges' eyes. Again! However, I've learned to channel disappointment into creative energy.