Stories by
Clare Kirwan

Jane struggles with what to file, what to throw away. Sifting through her parents’ things, she thinks how much easier this is in the office.

Clare Kirwan lives near Liverpool and writes poems and fiction

Afterwards, because he was sorry, he used to buy me flowers – yellows, purples, the colour of bruises. Nobody buys me flowers any more.

@ClareKirwan used to be a magician’s assistant but rarely jumps out of empty boxes any more.