Snowflake

by Louise Nealon

The community took an instant liking to him because he is affable and able to hide his intelligence, sort of like a holy Louis Theroux.

He opens up the fridge door and frowns. ‘The fuck is this?’ He’s spotted the carton already. ‘Oat milk.’ ‘Oats have tits now, do they?’

Browsing in a bookshop is a lot like collecting shells on a beach on a really good day. I want all of them.