‘A fox, sleek with an autumn colour and ears pushed back, froze when it saw me. It waited, assessing my threat level, and then appeared to soften. I opened my mouth to speak, to say hello delicately like I might to a dog or cat, but the word caught in my throat. It was as if my unlubricated gullet held it hostage, and when it did finally emerge, it spluttered out like it didn’t have enough support from my own body. To the fox, this was startling and it slinked away into the street without looking back.’
You can purchase a copy of Issue 9 here.
Jon Paul Roberts 