We brought a dead fox into our house.
My sad mother said, “We can’t leave it there, not like that.” She tidied it up, sweetened its death mask.
I felt sick but sad too, just like mother said.
The fleas thought, “This is the best thing that’s happened to us.”
Richard lives in England and enjoys wondering where his readers are.
She had stolen the seed pod from Kew, years ago, when “borrowing” was still considered acceptable.
Cossetting it, encouraging it, keeping it safe. It took such effort. Gardening was her solace.
He picked the best stems, laid them on the coffin, and then, afterwards, poured bleach carefully over her plant.
Janet, who grew up near Detroit, now lives in Edinburgh and works for the newest Scottish university. She is a rubbish gardener.