Joanna Miller

“It’ll make you feel better,” he’d insisted.   And although she hadn’t wanted to, she’d made the effort. But somewhere along the shore road, her mood darkened, and she felt anger seep into the space between them, tainting the idyllic vistas of seal pups balanced together on seaweed-slicked rocks.   He slowed the car. “If […]

“I’m a pluviophile,” she’d said, tracing her finger down the pane, following the raindrops’ paths. “It makes me feel safe.”   As if to satisfy her, all October brooding clouds swathed the hills, incessant rain spluttering the burns and bogs, throwing itself against her bedroom window like fistfuls of pea gravel. That night, though, she

After Mary Ellen Mark, Amanda and Her Cousin Amy   Half the morning we’d taken glamming her up: false nails, makeup, bling. Now she stood in the swimming pool wearing a swimsuit with frou-frou frills dancing like butterflies at the top of her tanned legs, chest buds revealed, a soft, rounded stomach, the outie belly

“Packages take longer,” the support worker had said. And that’s how it went, a whole year before we were placed with foster parents: two urban fox cubs set free, hungry to explore our new world of dense woods, scrambled tors and hidden valleys. On the first day of term, we snuck away from the school

Summer’s ending brought shorter days, lazy sunrises and painful, precious anniversaries. Royal colours jewelled the hedgerows, berries replaced blossom, and on the purple moor, the hinds and stags were gathering. She tried to shake off the season’s tugging sadness, but its melancholy settled and wrapped around her, unyielding. Now on her morning walks, everywhere was