Category: Uncategorised
-
Salt, Stone, Signal
We wear the weather like a cardigan here;salt on the collar, wind in the seams, Caithness sky stretched like an exam paper you can’t quite fold right.The bus leaves before the light finishes waking; I tuck my keys into the same pocket that remembers first-day nerves.My classroom is a cottage of cushions and careful rules,…
-
A Polite Haunting
Some days, a tiny creature wakes up inside my chest, a moth‑sized doubt with button eyes and too much interest. It flutters through my ribcage with a soft, persistent bluff, whispering in a velvet voice, what if you’re not enough? It’s polite about its haunting, it never claws or makes a scene;just rearranges furniture in…
Weather In My Ribs 