Saturday morning

The myna landed on the rail and blinked at me, startled. The streak of yellow in its wing made it fish-like and as it darted off again I felt like I was under water, with the day all cool and foggy, misty water, slow and sluggish.

When I’m at the Opera House, I look up at the soaring dome and imagine I am underwater, in a magnificent bubble; the dampener rings are a herd of massive jellyfish. I could push through them and bump my head against the top, but it wouldn’t hurt, really, because everything under water is quite slow, just like Saturday morning.

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Nat Newman

Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella.

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