I had a story published on Porridge Magazine. It’s about nostalgia and working in hospitality.
Today I woke up slightly ill and with a sense of nostalgia that was only just bearable. Maybe it was because of the Olbas Oil on my pillow, but I felt filled with all the calm, light afternoons of my past. I thought about my mum pottering around a quiet house and I thought about men: my dad who died before I was old enough to ask why he treated us all so badly after willing us into the world; my old boyfriend who lived in that grey bricked house by us in Deptford, which jutted out from a corner where two streets met, and the feeling I got in between ringing his doorbell and him answering it. Do you remember him, Hannah? Sometimes he would be in a dressing gown, smelling earthy with fluffy hair.
Read the rest of the story on Porridge Magazine