Like the world told the same lie over and over. The lie that things didn’t change. That things stayed as still as the empty morning air. And it was easy to keep the lie going because most of the time things really didn’t change. Each Monday was like the last, give or take a few details. You saw the same faces every day, ate similar food week by week, did a lot of the same stuff. But the stillness of things made it worse when changes happened. Like when a shark pops out of an ocean to gobble a fisherman. Or like when his dad and his mum told him, ‘We’re not going to live together any more.’ Or
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