Things Will Calm Down Soon

by Zoë Foster Blake

her bike shorts and oversized jumper channelling Princess Diana, her mood channelling Satan.

‘And don’t say the Hunter Valley. That wasn’t a holiday; that was a hellscape. I haven’t had merlot since. Disgusting.’

Cortisol was always gonna win today, why not give it some goddamn petrol.

Stage four. Dawn has switched from giving him wheatgrass juice to meditating for him, so you know it’s serious.’