{ I never forgot his face, but coming across it in the yellowing pages of a ten-year-old newspaper made me appreciate the extent to which we turn our dead into cartoons. His grin is gentle, not goofy. I got the grey eyes right, though, and the sandy flop of hair. I feel sick at the sight of him, indignant. A high school photo in a homicide report makes a person seem very dead. }
{ beyond broken bay } by rachel chalmers