It’s been heavier,' she said.
'In winter. Once.'
'Not this heavy,' I said. Out in the street the drains had filled and were vomiting filthy water up and over the gutters. The front yard was nothing but mud and leaves.
'Last time it was this bad it flooded the river,' she said. 'I saw a tram floating in the street.'
'I wasn’t there,' I said.
Rain ran down the glass, leaving dirty black trails. It was growing heavier. It was one forty-three, and there was no sign of the sun.black rain
But then it’s different for boys, epecially boys like Mike - tall boys, not that bright but fast runners, broad-shouldered boys with normal looks and mall clothes. What would it be like to live in his body? Would she feel invincible? When they’re naked she likes to lie behind him sometimes and line her arms up with his, warm skin of his back against her front, and half-circle his wrists with her little hands, and jostle him like a puppet. ‘You are mine,’ she’ll murmur, in a Dracula voice, trying not to giggle. ‘All mine.’
'I'm yours,' he’ll say, smiling, complacent.detour
We haven't cleaned the gutters yet. There’s dry scrub sticking out like mossy pubes from a nanna's cossie.
Dry scrub wishing for embers. This valley is a firebowl and we know it but we cook our pork chops and we steam our rice and we watch A Current Affair.
Rob says he would stay and fight. He reckons he could hide under the rock ledge in the basement and the fire would pass him by. I say he's a fool. Anyone knows this house is a matchbox.a movement in a moment