We sat in the car. I switched on some music. An old tape of Clapton. She held my hand between both of hers. I closed my eyes and it was like being caressed by two different people. Her nails scored the tender part of my inner arm.
‘You’re a minor chord, Warrington,’ she said.
‘Minor?’ I asked. ‘That’s nice. Why can’t I be major?’
‘Because major chords are happy sounding. Positive. Minors are fragile, sad things.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Thanks a bundle.’
‘E Minor,’ she said. ‘The saddest of all chords.’
I’ve known for a week but I can now reveal that my story, Raptors, published online by Subterranean Press, is a finalist for the Shirley Jackson award in the Best Novelette category. It’s great to be on the shortlist again. Congratulations and good luck to all the other nominees. Thanks to Bill Schafer at Subterranean for taking the story.