It was dark when I left for work this morning, my eyes dazzled by toothpaste. The sleet was orange. As I walked past the slope opposite Station Terrace I had to remind myself that the shapes were not monsters but rubbish thrown over from the street above.
When I got to the bus stop the bakery’s clatter reassured me like a mother. The sound of the bus dissolved the last of monsters and reminded me of another.
They were wearing roses.