Making a change

For years I’ve spoken about what I’m writing next. What novel I’m starting, what project I’m a few pages into. They always come to nothing. For now, the only thing I can do to surprise myself is to actually finish what I’ve started.

Short story: The Dolls

“Yo. Hear the bell?” I say over my shoulder to Thorndike, who's lying spread-eagled on his bed, face down. The only parts of him moving are the bright yellow soles of his trainers, bobbing up and down erratically like headlights. He’d cleaned them last night before bed, as he always did. Scrubbing and picking and brushing any specks he’d picked up from the linoleum. Like he was determined not to carry any of his day into the next.