It was five in the morning. The crisp winter chills of June were violent on bare-feet, which scampered over the tiled floor into a much warmer, carpeted room.
There sat the laptop: Sleek, chrome and glistening. I sat down, trying my best not to let the chair creek. Mother and father were still asleep; the brother was still out on a night in the town, the sister – wait, she’d moved out five years ago. So yeah, probably still with that oaf that only wears an Aussie-rules vest all day, even in July. Continue reading
third-gen 