There’s blood. I taste it when I swallow, metallic and unmistakable, like the tip of a battery on my tongue, and when I try to cough it up, a hand touches mine and something bleeps.
A very short story I wrote which was shortlisted for the A3 Review on the theme of ‘Tracks’ There are tracks on your arm from a parallel life, and I want to know all about it. The truth now, you hear? No bullshit. Just the facts. Don’t tell me your mama didn’t love you.