He stood with his back to us in his black trousers and white shirt, washing his hands. Flies crawled over the worktop and flitted into the pot of rice and peas on his stove. Mum and I exchanged a glance and she nodded at me.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Aisha Phoenix's "Airswimming."
I'm idling on a zone, radar low,
My panels and windows staring