02
Jan 2013

Maggie has parked her implacable arse in its usual spot on the edge of the stone retaining wall that keeps my terraced garden from invading the house. She has a cigarette in one hand and a globe of semillon in the other. The glass sliding door is open only enough so that I can hear her from the kitchen, where I am throwing a salad together. Her crossed legs don’t quite reach the ground and she dangles her flat suede shoes off her toes while her substantial calves stretch...

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06
Jan 2013

Wallet, check. Phone, check. Keys, check. Laptop, check. Chargers, check. I take one last glance at the note on the kitchen table left for my cleaning lady and grab my suit bag. I jump into the taxi waiting out the front and we’re off.

I’ve managed to get these last minute trips to Melbourne down to a fine art. I haven’t had much choice. We’ve got a long way to go before we reach the critical mass necessary to open an office down in Melbourne, even though our one...

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© 2012 Alicia Thompson
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