I couldn’t have known that her shoes would be important. When I was sitting on the porch watching my daughter fuss over them, dropping the last potent grains of toddler uranium into her already brewing tantrum, I really should’ve been grateful. We lived so close to the stop, missing a bus was infuriating. “Hurry up,” I shouted over the streams of traffic on Queensferry Road, as she bent to fix the velcro for the tenth time. “Hurr—” The crunch shocked as the bus shelter crumpled around the Fiat. “They’re better now,” she said smiling. Completely oblivious to our second life.
Laura Cooney's work has appeared in Northern Gravy and Voidspace Zine, among other publications. She lives in Edinburgh, Scotland.