The Twisted Tree

by Rachel Burge

The air sparks and crackles – it’s like their clothes know I’m here, walking among them. A wet-faced toddler wobbles

again but lies awake at night, terrified she might lose this baby too. My chest aches

problem travelling around London by myself

Dad’s. I text back straight away, then turn my phone to flight mode. My parents have barely spoken since the divorce; as