February brings another issue of The Kindling – although grief has stayed my hand from writing as a friend of mine took her life last month. I think you’ll forgive me for being a bit late on the delivery of this one.

This issue is for her. I haven’t written a short story since the last issue and it felt so strange to come back to it and not have a single idea to launch from.

The story is of course fiction, it never happened and never will. The characters aren’t real, but I – the writer – am real and couldn’t help but pull from my grief.

I’m doing okay, I have a wonderful circle of love around me always.

Feel free to reply with any poems or images that bring you some joy x

i’ve eaten cotton balls to soak up the bile in my throat
disbelief begets imagining begets tragedy
 
the questions
with no answers
 
we were going to walk together
(ironically of course)
to trick your brain
into happiness
 
last time you looked at me
you looked at me asking
if i had the secret
you looked at me and
i’d told you all i knew
 
it was somatic, mental, spiritual
we agreed that your body held answers
walking and yoga and breathing
—breathing
it was somatic
 
what do i tell the birds
the fantails
disbelief
imagining
tragedy

It had been hard to do much of anything lately. To reply to messages, to drink enough water, to cry. Mostly I felt neutral. Like a car left idling at the top of a cliff – doors wide open. Any moment someone would get in the driver’s seat.

I put myself on room detention yesterday, thinking I might clean it or need to go to the bathroom. I did neither.

I skipped a video with the blonde American woman who does breathing exercises. A British guy in his early twenties shouted about how lucky he was to be alive. I flipped over to Instagram and tapped through people’s stories.

Cam was still in Europe partying, Sophie was reading in the sun, Mariana was going for a run, Isla was looking hot, James was sharing a reel about Israel–Palestine, Chloe’s mum was brunching again, a politician was resharing their speech, ad, ad, ad, that online bookstore had made a reel about a recent trend, there was a sale on romantasy books, Elise’s older sister was at dinner last night celebrating a promotion, ad, ad, ad, Fleur was at yoga, Federico had a hot take on how to make toast, ad, ad, that fashion brand was launching a new line, Niamh looked hot, Raj looked hot, Don was talking about his business, Craig had mowed his lawns and was enjoying a well-deserved beer, ad, ad, ad, ad.

A knock on the door. ‘Good afternoon, sleepyhead! I’ve just made some lunch if you want some?’

Sophie had started doing this if she hadn’t seen me for a couple days. The interaction was always a shock to the system.

‘Okay, yeah. I’ll be out in a bit!’ I managed.

‘If you’re not down in an hour I’m coming in,’ I could hear the smile in her voice.

‘Mhm,’ I hummed loud enough for her to hear.

My head spun as I sat up and my spine settled into an upright stack. I lit a candle on my bedside table and stared at the floor.

An image of that blonde American popped into my head and I grabbed my phone to find the video. I opened TikTok to the British guy yelling about his good fortune and quickly swiped up. The app froze for a second before reloading and showing me a new video, reshuffling my American breathing instructor video into the stack of millions. I put my phone on charge and breathed begrudgingly on my own.

I gathered dishes I’d meant to return last week and left them by the door. Put on a soft bra, big shirt and shorts, and kicked the rest of my clothes towards the wardrobe. Releasing myself from room arrest, I splashed water on my face in the bathroom sink and massaged my stiff face. I peed and wasn’t alarmed by the deep yellow colour but hated myself for it. Unable to consider something like toothpaste in my mouth, I compromised to rub my teeth with the corner my towel and rinse my mouth under the tap. The mirror was out of the question.

Dishes in hand I padded down the hall to the kitchen. The TV boasted American accents and obtuse background music.

Sophie heard me coming. ‘There’s a sandwich on the bench and a kombucha in the fridge if you want it.’ Her mouth was full. She paused to swallow before continuing, ‘Just watching The Bachelor if you wanna join?’

Dishes hugged to my stomach I rounded the corner to find her on the couch.

‘I can wash those if you want?’

I recoiled at her kindness. ‘No, it’s okay.’

Sophie turned back to the TV.

‘Thanks, though.’ I felt her gaze on me as I dropped the plates, mugs and cups into the sink. Her voice was suddenly behind me.

‘It’s no worries. I’ve been looking for this.’ She pointed to a mottled blue ceramic mug I’d made for her in pottery class.

‘Sorry.’ I bit my lip.

‘No! It’s fine. I was worried I’d lost it and I was going to have to tell you,’ she laughed and it sounded light. Like it was easy. She turned the tap to hot and swirled dishwashing liquid over the stack of dishes. ‘I’ll wash, you can dry. Deal?’

‘Okay.’ Why did I sound like that?

‘Eat! Eat! We can do these after this episode. He’s just told Rachel he loves her after telling Gabby the same thing. This guy is the worst.’

Sophie covered us in a blanket and then did the dishes after I fell asleep on the couch. She woke me up and asked if I wanted to go for a walk.

‘Sure. I might just put a load of washing on.’

‘Sweet, be ready in ten minutes?’

We drove to the end of the road and found the hidden entrance to the bush walk. At one end of the track I took a picture of the gate with the afternoon sun shining through the trees. I sent it to my sister and told her we should go for a walk here sometime.

She replied straight away and I answered her previous messages as we made our way back to the car sitting at the edge of the vast bush. I’d left the door open and the battery had gone flat. Sophie wasn’t annoyed. We walked home and used my car to jump hers back to life.