The Space Between

When Jack tells me his deepest fear I want to laugh. Not at his fear, but just in that moment - sitting on the ratty couch on the apartment balcony, watching as the colour is drained from the earth. I want to be laughing. Carefree. But Jack is the serious type, and August’s evening glow is a time for introspection, not giggling. He says he has lived many lives in twenty-five years.

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Katrina Martin