Moonrise

‘The moonrise was beautiful all month,’ I tell Ed.

‘It’s beautiful underneath this sky.’

tomorrow’s a story that ain’t been written yet.

No use in rehearsing it.

No use at all.’

you can know all the facts you want about

a person

– height, weight, the way they like their eggs –

but you’ll never know for sure what’s

driving his heart.

A tangerine rolled across the rug