Business As Usual by Gaynor Jones
Last weekend, 19th January, I had the pleasure of joining Gaynor Jones for the launch of her debut flash fiction collection, Business As Usual. Gaynor has been a regular contributor to Ellipsis,…
Last weekend, 19th January, I had the pleasure of joining Gaynor Jones for the launch of her debut flash fiction collection, Business As Usual. Gaynor has been a regular contributor to Ellipsis,…
We saunter into the hotel lobby, wet flip flops slapping the tiles. I choose a wobbly table and sit, scan the room: A young mom and her lanky husband, flinging a baby…
Vincent cut into the meat, grimacing at the effort needed to saw through the stringy, pink flesh. He sliced off a portion, speared the chunk with his fork, and skated it through…
On the park bench, headscarf tied over her grey hair, tartan shopping bag by her feet, coat buttoned up tight, she’s throwing bread into the empty pond. Bemused pigeons and sparrows coo…
Sarah and I arrived on Christmas Eve, just in time for lunch, then spent the rest of the day between the spa and the pool, the restaurant and the bar, the snowy…
I think of you every morning as I shake her Coco Pops into the bowl. Never Frosties or Rice Krispies. Only Coco Pops will do. Clipping tokens from the box, your hand…
My fingertip is rough; it drags along my skin, over the curve of my breast. It’s not slippery like I need it to be, and I don’t have much alone time since…
Anna keeps a small mirror in her closet tucked behind a pile of dusty things she inherited or can’t remember buying. When she looks in the glass, it shimmers and ripples like…
Winter, the coldest for fifteen years, and James is wearing the scarf he stole in his university days from a girl who broke up with him for thinking Kundera was pretentious. He…
‘Do you want a girl or a boy?’ ‘I don’t care what sex it is, as long as it isn’t ginger,’ said its mother. It was ginger. He. Didn’t stand a chance…
That was the last time I saw you. Your 21st birthday. I felt like a ghost gate-crashing a party for the living, and my God were you living. The partying never ended…
I wonder, briefly, if I might drown myself in the meadow, the pasture is deep enough to render a sea. At least then I wouldn’t be able to hear them incessantly argue…