Emily Taylor

**The Last Minute** Edward stood by the window of his flat in Sheffield, watching schoolchildren hurry

**Sunday, February 18th** This past summer, the little bench in the square near Camden was always noisy—schoolkids

When Joy Came Home It was late evening, that gloomy March dusk, and Michael was walking home from work

It was summer when this bench in the square near Camden still hummed with life—schoolkids licking ice

When Joy Came It was a late evening in March, the air thick with a damp, lingering mist. Michael, as

**The Basement Summer** First, there was a crash. The kind that leaves your ears ringing, as if a lorry

When the Door Closed Without a Sound When the door slammed, Michael didn’t flinch. He sat on an old stool

When Joy Came It was late evening, the thick March gloom hanging heavy in the air, and Michael, as usual

When Everything Left Without a Sound When the door slammed, Michael didn’t stir. He sat on an old stool

Lily grew up like a weed by the roadside—unnoticed, untouched, uncared for. No affection, no warmth