There’s no power here. The internet says they’ll fix it by 9.30pm, and that I’m likely affected. I am. Found candles and two torches with no intestines. But the candles are nice. I am trying to heat my shepherd’s pie without a microwave.
My library looks like a dungeon full of deep dark works from the days of dragons, steeds of smoke with diamonds for eyes and muscular haunches that scrape at the moon and allow gold to fall on the poor.
The house is no longer a cube of blue light from screens that are sharp and shined and give useful facts and information.
The house is a caramel. I’m sitting in it trying to heat my shepherd’s pie, imagining that I’m poor, and my mother’s voice saying, ‘But you’re not’.