3.1
She leaned against the balcony wall one last time, resisting an impulse to rest her elbows on the scalding cap of concrete. A shimmering haze rose from the rooftops, the city skyline indistinct in a sandy murk. She turned her face to the east, the wind sweeping back her hair. She heard a car roar up the road somewhere below, the screech of brakes and a few loud honks. Stupid goose, she thought, narrowing her eyes as she imagined a domed head of slicked-back white hair and a clapping beak. Her bare arms were stinging so she pulled back into the shade.
Australia Day was affecting her mood. The anniversary of the arrival of the First Fleet when this land was invaded and conquered, and its indigenous peoples oppressed, a day of white-fella flag waving, righteous congratulations and back-
