Hex

by Jenni Fagan

– My grandmother’s house smelled of lavender. Sunlight came through her kitchen window each afternoon, and it would land on her armchair, and I would sleep there curled up warm as a cat when I was a child.

You pull the blanket around you and sink into it. It is as soft as I could summon, a deep mustard colour and made of pure wool.

the darkest is always drawn to the brightest

God help her if she is a mirror.

Silence is complicity. Non-action is a form of approval. I will not be passive.