Butterfly

Sipping my hot chocolate, I look outside at the rain belting against the window, hoping for a glimpse of my man. Daisy pulls the blind on the door, indicating the

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The Ballerina

Parisian dark skies frame the cold grey housing block decorated in graffiti. Communal steel dumpsters overflow with putrid trash, and I see a rat feasting on the remains of a

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The Perfect Match

Melvin Blinded by the white lights in front of me, I keep smiling like a stiff until the solo red light turns green. ‘Good job!’ The producer shouts as I unclip my

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The Enemy

Silently, I ran over familiar ground as I scanned the vacant buildings and empty streets. Each time I left, I had to go further, making my journey more dangerous. My eyes

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