Love and Glitter
Synaesthesia Magazine Short Story Competition 2014
WINNER: Amanda Oosthuizen
I clutch my lucky stars as the universe churns, sucking me into its bass-drum blackness.
A golden pinecone tumbles into the gutter, a Christmas reject. I pick it up.
The wind tunnels up Quantock Street. A grey Laguna with two child seats is parked on a double-yellow outside the shop. I peer inside. No sign of them. I slap the ticket on the windscreen. A man walks past muttering, ‘Jobsworth,’ but a white feather twirls from the sky. I chase it, catching it before it lands.
At least I have a job; Dai sits at home prodding his laptop and filling a notebook with tiny numbers. Yesterday, in a pile of unopened mail, I discovered the default notice from the mortgage company.
‘You said you’d phone them.’ I wanted to scream.
He shrank. ‘What can I do?’
‘So where’s the money going?’
He shrugged, barely in the room.
Tonight, Monday, someone’s coming to talk to us.
No cars are parked in the disabled bay in Corona Way but by a white gate I find a hair-tie with six tiny silver horseshoes. I’ve been in the job a year, time enough to realise my role as breadwinner has upset the balance. I pick up three red beads glistening in the afternoon sun like devils’ eyes.