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Inland

Inland

Last night, the upstairs had a leak and now there’s a dripping stain above my bed. Never could stay away from the water long. The woodlice recall their marine cousins. They grow fat and bold. Seagulls have taken to perching on the roof and nesting in my window box. I have to move further inland.

This morning the kitchen sink began to drip. I tighten it up (I’ve had some practice). Since I started working the stain’s spread and gone green as an algae bloom. Half an hour’s scraping kills the colour but it’ll be back. I have to wash up. The bathroom sink’s dripping, too. The water comes away from my hands smelling of brine. Better fix it now.

Crouched, I spot a crab by the floorboards next to the toilet. It’s the size of my thumbnail, freckled green-grey. It ought to be under a pebble by the ocean. It scuttles into my palm. I squeeze clean, breathable water from my other hand into a bowl for it. From there, the crab watches me work.

I have to move further inland. I haven’t been near the ocean in years. Must have brought it with me.

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