Lunagirl knew it was an apology of sorts, albeit unspoken, after being abandoned on the first day they met – even though Lunagirl stopped feeling abandoned a long time ago. Rainfish said it was a surprise. But to pass the time as they headed up the back of Alexander Park he started telling her about One-Legged Keith, which to Shades, sounded more like warning.
Lunagirl couldn’t see if Rainfish vanished into the puddle, or the puddle swallowed him. Liquid and solid masses seemed to connect somewhere just off the ground. A gutter of embrace and Rainfish was gone. The puddle fell back down to its apathetic state in the shadows.
Lunagirl’s khaki canvas rucksack is strapped like a Neolithic shield to her back. It bounces along with her through the drizzle as they head south on Princess Parkway and onto Wilbraham Rd.
Before Lunagirl has time to react Rainfish has her arm like a leash. ‘Come-n’ – We carn’t slow down. Fouk’it Shades. Don’t stop.’ That’s what Rainfish called Lunagirl – Shades, on account she always wore turtle blue sunglasses. To her mother Lunagirl was Jane.
She sits alone by the coffee shop window. On her table is an espresso, a small beaker of milk and a clear glass of hot water that condenses around the rim. A cigarette in her right hand burns a silk scarf of smoke into the air.
…before the foxes came I’m told wild areas still grew – before the foxes came and towns gobbled up the ground. Towns gobbled up the ground, bit by bit, stone by stone, building after building, till the wilderness was eaten – chewed, swallowed. Gone.
George took the Patrol to pick his son Mark up from the international airport. Ordinarily he was very careful about its mileage and the Patrol burned gas a heck of a lot faster than the wife’s hatchback. But he was unsure how much luggage Mark was bringing back with him. George only got a call three days ago from Mark telling him he was coming home.