moon over a purple river and trees

The Peeping Moon

June O'Sullivan

They had lost it. The spark, butterflies in the stomach, ghost fingers down the spine. They tried to coax it back with marriage counselling, sexy outfits, weekends away. Friends and family swooped in to babysit, trying to cement over the cracks. In expensive dining-rooms they sat, itching to pick up the phones they had promised to sideline, yearning to scroll themselves away from here.