I addressed the envelope to Mrs Ambrose next door.
Safer that way.
No return address.
Made a vague reference to living on the coast.
No mention of the city though.
The thought of my dad showing up here makes my stomach lurch.
So the less she knows, the better.
He has a way of getting information out of her.
“Fortitude Valley,” announces the intercom.
That place was a disappointment.
No leafy valley. No stars.
Too many bright lights to see anything.
Just a bunch of night clubs and tattoo studios.
Not my scene at all.
I feel naive for assuming that my starry sky would follow me here.
Never imagined that anything could possibly shine bright enough to tame it.
Sometimes I draw galaxies inside my notebook instead.
How odd to grieve the sky.
The one slice of Nowhere Land that I’ve pined for the most.
Here’s what I miss.
Mum, obviously.
Beth, obviously.
Her chicken pie.
Her plum cobbler, too.
But most of all, the stars.
Not the city boy kind.
Real stars.
I also miss Beth’s hugs.
Haven’t had a hug in weeks.
I know someone I’d like to hug though, in a more than friends way.
