Anchovy
The small fish circle the tank, freshly sharpened knives flashing in the downlights of the aquarium. Moving as one, the school becomes a switchblade tossed from hand to hand.
She unwraps a mint, places it in her mouth and glances at her watch, despite knowing she is early. She looks back to the tank and notices one fish is slightly slower than the rest, its movements out of time, each turn a fraction too late.
'Mummy!'
She isn’t ready, hasn’t steeled herself. The lagging anchovy lags further, turns later, watches her with its too-big eye.
LINDSEY ELLWOOD has been a freelance writer and proofreader for the past three years, having left a career in teaching. She balances her freelance working with looking after her two boys and writing for herself. She studied for a BA in English Literature and an MA in Creative Writing at Newcastle University.
