Calling Time

Mum’s hands dance in an absurd game of charades. ‘The thing that goes like this but not the broom.’ Though she means for me to answer, she directs her words to the space above my head. ‘The vacuum cleaner. I’ll look at it now.’ I don’t get up; I won’t be looking at it. Mum’s right that something is broken, it’s just not the vacuum. … Continue reading Calling Time