he smiles (or I smile for him) in shadows of the flat - living his invisible-man life. The only real pretend friend I’ve had. A womb-warm throb weighing-in heavy. A moth against a well-lit window. A flash in the corner of an eye. His low-slow night-voice lullabying. His mind (but really mine) - susurrations. I’m so content I feel sick. Reaching out for his body, which has never been there. --- Galia is a British-Israeli writer, musician and crafter, who works full time as Head of English, media and film at a secondary school in North London. She has lectured at the Shakespeare Institute, the British Library and is on the committee for the London Association for the Teaching of English. She has been published in Atrium and Dear Reader. Follow her on Twitter @galiamelon