All That Blue

Friday, April 1, 2016
Katelin Farnsworth

We’re gunna get out of here. That’s what Mum keeps saying. She’s in the kitchen, wearing a faded yellow dress, hands working quickly, slapping mayo onto cheap white bread.

‘We’re gunna get out of here,’ she says again, smiling with wonky teeth.

‘But I like it here,’ I tell her. She frowns and shakes her head.


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