The Craw

There were six children that I could see in this portion of economy. The shadow passed close by one of them and then there were five, without me being able to see exactly what had happened. The child was still there, kind of, but it was sagged into its seat as if it was apeing the bag of its clothes. I was reminded of something my mum used to say to me, if we were unlucky enough to get a tough bunch of chops from the butcher. Chew the goodness from the meat, she’d say. Then spit out what’s left.


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