When Berta was a child with wrinkled socks, and shoes with a strap and a buckle that never shone bright enough, the other children made fun of her. They made up rhymes and songs about how useless and stupid she was and chanted them while playing games she was never otherwise a part of. Continue reading “Knowing: 1”
Category: Fiction
Race For Love
23rd August, 2078
London
It’s nearly five a.m. I can’t stop pacing. I’m not nervous. Not exactly. Not flutter-tummy throwing-up nervous. It’s energy. Overflowing, unstoppable energy. It makes my skin tight and my scalp itch and I can’t stop moving. Continue reading “Race For Love”