“It was so sudden. I’m still in shock, I think,” he said, resting his hand sadly on the girl’s knee. “Though to be honest we hadn’t been close for a long time.”

“I’m closer than you know,” I hissed, floating beside them, and reached across the table for the bottle.

Sarah Jackson writes gently unsettling stories. She lives in east London UK and has a green tricycle called Ivy. See more at sarahijackson.com/writing.