‘Gumtrees stretch over the narrow road. My high-beams find his silver-blue Ford Laser skewed across the asphalt at the end of curled line of skid marks. He’s sitting on the roof of his car in his Nike tank top, sucking a dart through his teeth. He holds his hand straight in the air when I honk the horn, blows a stream of smoke out his nose.’

Read The Kangaroo on Every Day Fiction, published 31 January 2024.