I’m taking the kitchen table, because you don’t remember how we hauled it together in sweating harmony from the Queen’s Day secondhand market through the celebrating streets to our first home.
It’s easy to disappear in the dampness of this town. Twelve moons ago, my mother wandered through a murky labyrinth of streets and bridges, crossing canal after canal—like I do now—leaving no footsteps.
The night I met her she was wearing all white, as a ruse perhaps, for she was no angel. One look into her eyes and you knew: flammable, ambivalent, relentless.
Claire Polders talks to Michelle Elvy about her forthcoming stories in New Micro (W.W. Norton & Co., 2018), her work as an editor for Flash Frontier and Blue Five Notebook, and the relationship between fiction and reality in her writing.
I dig up a lint ball from his belly button. Roll it between my fingertips.