If there’s a book you really want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it

—Toni Morrison
Rob

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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Rob

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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© 2012 Alicia Thompson
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