Listen to this story read by the author.
Irene and I are on the verandah at her grandparents’ house, in the two chairs we’ve managed to clear of spiderwebs. The baby is awake in her arms.
‘Did you sleep?’ I say.
‘Yeah, a few hours.’
‘That’s good.’
She offers no sign of agreement.
The sunset is orange, the sky scattered with clouds. We’re eating pumpkin and lentil soup o ...
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