~ 30 ~
Tarot’s ReturnZombie-like, she walks back down the hill, stumbling on rocks and roots in the dark. Her house is hushed in blackness, Mrs Lever gone, Poppy and her father watching the news. She stands before her parents’ bedroom door. In a flourish, she flings it open and snaps on the light. The bed empty, ruffled carefully. She backs out, stands in the middle of the hall. The television drones. Poppy coughs a rattling cough. She backs across the hall and leans on the door opposite, her eyes still on her mother’s empty bed. She turns the knob and backs into the empty room behind her. She turns and closes the door. In the darkness, Alex’s room is like being under the blankets too long, airless but safe. She climbs into his bed, the burs in her skirt tearing at her skin, the air squee
