Calling all writers!
Basil sinks his fingers into a bag of earth and sighs with relief. He digs deeper and deeper until, elbow engulfed, he fishes out a tightly sealed packet of Golden Virginia. Swifts thrash across an infinitely blue sky and glide into formation.
The sound of a teaspoon tinkling against the side of a cup can be heard from the kitchen as Maria prepares a ‘Malteser’, a warm beverage Diego invented as a child, consisting in one spoon of Horlicks, one spoon of Nesquik, and milk.
“It really does taste of Malteser!”, she would frequently exclaim.
Smoke spirals upwards as sun splashes across Basil’s cinnamon skin, eyes twinkling in the direction of their old car. Its blue paint is peeling in the August heat and a new ‘Baby on Board’ sticker has been placed the back window. He hasn’t been feeling well lately. He puts the cigarette out and throws the stub over the wall. He picks up his garden hose and waters deep, cupped pink roses, wildflowers, white alyssum, clutches of tomatoes, green beans, and a lemon tree. Basil values moments of peace like these.
Finally, turning the water off, he takes note of all the weeds that need pulling.
At the kitchen sink, dishwashing liquid and water bubble in his palms as his son slurps at his Malteser.
A cloud moves over the sun as Maria re-enters the room, feet shoulder width apart, hands on her belly. Dark curls frame her brow.
Basil straightens his back, quickly drying his hands.
“You smell of smoke,” she tells him.
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Blue wall, brown cupboard
Light shoots through the window
It’s kept in by the door
But it pours through the cracks
Drawing a line on the hallway floor
Feet pitter pat past
Filling up a water can fast
Before the flowers freck away
Can you tell it’s day?
A writer sits at her gloomy desk
Hoping for something more
But can only focus on the sound of her sister watching Netflix
Behind the kitchen door.