Julie gently nudges the old clock to the left and slides the duster carefully across the mantelpiece. Her husband’s Christmas card can now take centre stage. As she places it down between the clock and the cactus she reads his handwritten words: Poetry, pure poetry. The snowy garden scene of a robin standing on a picket fence makes her smile; such false nostalgia. Julie notices that even more glitter has fallen off. Every year it shines less and less.
(Published, Paragraph Planet, December 2024).
