Kingsley lay on the straight-small bed in the backyard where they carried him. It was warm under the sagging roof, with a pile of assorted junk in one corner – a dirty motor tyre, sundry split and warped boxes, and an old display sign where the enamelling had cracked away to reveal the map of…

I give the dying man a hug. Then I take his money. He walks away. Healed. He’s gained a few more years in exchange for a sizable dent in his bank account, and I’ve lost a year of my life in exchange for a sizable increase in my bank account. My hugs certainly aren’t free.

Worm was three steps down the hallway when the voices reached past his ears to his brain. “I’m sorry that I can’t get my patients to schedule their problems to suit your needs.”

She wore a bracelet of pale purple, and then there was the scent. A continuous bouquet of lavender that followed her like a natural cloud of perfume. He remembered this in particular as if he had watched her wade through the corridors in her habit just a few hours ago.

I preside in darkness. In this coffin. For what seems like eternities. Crammed like sardines with the other twenty-seven. All made of bone. Then, out of the blackness we hear muffled sounds of voices accompanied by coughing. We become weightless, knocking against each other as we rattle around in a quake. A shaft of light…

Flinging my leg over my red bike, I shunt forward, trundling out of the backyard down the bitumen driveway. Our cul-de-sac is unusually still for late Sunday afternoon in Huntingdale. All the neighbourhood kids must’ve been called in already, either now watching Sunday sports with their parents or being scrubbed clean before dinner time.