Author: Lauren Thomas

The smells rushed in at her, each jostling for her attention, crowding all of her senses. Warm rubber from basketballs passed between hot hands. Powdery chalk used to ease palms reddened by coarse rope. And the sweat, layer upon layer, built up over the years like an olfactory mille-feuille. It lingered in the seats, tucked…

He saw his daughter sat at the kitchen table, her head cocked to one side, her face so serious for one so young. “What’s shaking, pickleball?” “Shh daddy.” He sat opposite her and copied her posture, head tilted to the side, expression serious. “What are we listening for?” “My teeth.” “Your teeth?” A nod, her…

She loved to walk. Mostly she loved to walk in unexpected places, letting her legs choose their own direction. She had seen more secrets in her city this way than she had thought possible. The graffiti tucked on the underside of a bridge, a drawing of an embrace dated 1937. An eternal love note. The…

He had watched too much of life pass him by. He knew he could be spiky with people. He knew that sometimes he lashed out when someone showed him love, pushing them away when they got too close. He couldn’t help it. He could never trust that their intentions were good. He had seen too…

“What if I fail?” A shrug. “So what if you do?” Silence. Time ticked by as it waited to be filled. “Everyone might laugh at me. Talk about me behind my back.” A shrug. “So what if they do?” Silence. Time ticked by as it waited to be filled. “It could affect my reputation. It…

She kept a sharp eye on the weather forecast, dreading the arrival of storm Floris. Not because of the risk to her fences. She had reinforced those last year. It was the risk to her cherry trees, heavy with blossom, their vivid pinks almost unnaturally bright. They filled her heart with joy. The morning the…

“What are you doing here?” She blew across the top of a mug of fresh coffee, looking all too comfortable in a kitchen that wasn’t hers. “I thought I’d stay.” She took a sip and sighed. “Seriously. Is there anything better than coffee?” “Where is he?” She flicked her eyes towards the ceiling. “Upstairs.” She…

She gravitated towards the museum. Not because of the paintings with their rich textures or the sculptures with their smooth, cold lines. Because of the moths. She walked past the glass cabinets, gazing at their hypnotic, symmetrical beauty. The rosy maple moth made her think of raspberry ripple ice cream. The luna moth made her…

At first she ran to support a friend, accompanying on her on longer and longer runs until her body grew accustomed to the rhythm of her breath. Her muscles grew stronger, craving movement. Then she ran for her own personal challenges. Faster and longer, doing things her younger self would never have believed possible. Then…

“What’s your favourite smell?” “Cut grass.” “Baking bread.” “Mum’s perfume.” “Burnt toast.” They all turned to look at her. “Burnt toast? Why?” She remembered the time her dad made them all breakfast when their mum was in hospital. She thought of the eggs stuck to the pan and the blackened crusts cut off the toast…