By K. A. Warwick Inheritance is inconspicuous. It is not the jewellery you pocket or the deeds you wade through. Inheritance is the way your body flinches before your mind understands why. It isn’t given, and it isn’t asked for. It is learned. The way you listen through walls without thinking. The way you fold your anger into smaller, softer shapes easier to carry, harder to see. The way you apologise for taking up air. Inheritance is learning to predict the weather of the ho

By Ruth Hutton Your house loomed above my garden, Your dead, wolf eyes stalked me through the windows. Even in sunlight, your house was dark. Flowers flailed, like leftover innards. You invited me in with a misleading humour and down to earthiness that I admired. Charisma oozing, impeccable chitchat, offering stories of a shared life. A vile, handsome couple. The crunch - we work with kids. I was prey from the outset. We live upstairs in this house. Sunday afternoon drinks. M

By Rosie Bogumil i’m doing well yes, sleeping better (the later i wake, the more meals i miss) taking my medications as prescribed the intrusive thoughts remain intrusive i’m eating more regularly (mostly caffeine) yes, three times a day i’ve been leaving the house (less often) and getting used to being alone at home in and at one with the dark (that’s probably part of the problem) when God invented sleep it was to give us a taste of death as a treat (i kn