First published in Adelaide Literary Journal.
“In my backyard, there are fruit mice that come out at night, devious, and peel my oranges. In the morning it looks like a herd of suburban moms have come through for mimosas and left their shavings. It’s so disrespectful. I am a maid for mice. I clean up after them and let them have at my oranges again the next night.
I saw a possum come through. He ran off hurriedly when I shined my cell phone flashlight on him….”
Read the rest here.
Hardwired 