short fiction
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The wind whips, scrapes boxes and wrappers across the pavement and into the air, thrashes the treetops. It’s going to be hotter than it’s been for months, they say. Oppressively hot and windy, say the forecasters. You can tell they’ll be right this time, that things will turn out exactly the way they’ve said. It’s
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At the beginning of September I joined a group of writing friends for a week-long retreat at a rented house in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales. The five of us originally met on a writing residency at Varuna in 2016, and have stayed in touch since then. The Sunday before leaving Melbourne, I