My invisible unicorn dies, so I dig a big hole in the garden and sing a happy song. My parents come outside and frown.

“If he’s in unicorn heaven,” they say, “why dig the hole?”

I cry, and they hug me. I love all this.

My unicorn dies quite often.

Brenda Anderson’s fiction has appeared in various places, from Andromeda Spaceways to SpeckLit. She lives in Adelaide, South Australia and tweets irregularly.