Growing up in a supermarket is strange. Many rites of passage are faced within those brick walls and dimly-lit interior – love, death, a sweet sixteen, rejection, abuse, somehow finding yourself in the mix of all that.
Did I look at you, catch your eye, and did we blush and quickly glance away, shy and sweet and only sixteen?
My car stalled the first few times he started it up. Underneath the sound of the revving engine, he muttered, “Fucking shit thing”. I tried not to take it personally.
There’s no one to pick me up when I arrive at Tarneit station. Two people who got off the train with me walk over to the nearest bus stop and sit down. I have nowhere to go.