I gift you a fruit bowl to say ‘Happy New Home’. 

To my boys? No. Practise this: to my son and his father.

The underside is lacquered red; only the cradle bares the grain. Your eyebrows rise-fall-rise as you consider the bowl, the motherly gesture. 

Every hour pours out its sorrow; I channel it anew – away. Our child sees nothing sad in two fruit bowls, two homes. His face beams pure adventure. 

*

When I pick him up on Sunday, I keep my coat on. 

There are two green apples in the bowl. 

It holds them gently, makes no promises.

Lucy Goldring is a Northerner hiding in South West England. She has been shortlisted by the National Flash Fiction Day (NFFD) three times and won Lunate Fiction’s monthly flash competition in 2020. Lucy was nominated for Best Small Fictions 2020 by both NFFD and 100 Word Story. Tweets @livingallover

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