On Exposure

When you’re a receptionist at your husband’s office, you don’t see much glamour. But the newest client was a rare exception. I drank her in as she leaned over my desk, signing a cheque. In her red lipstick and white fur coat, she was a raven-haired vision. “Is it real?” …

On hunger

Even before I saw it, I knew it was from you. It was on the doorstep, when I got home from work: a brown box, with my name written on it. I opened it in the kitchen, pulling at layers of tissue, my breath coming fast. I’d been denying myself—no …

2019 — Louisa Knight