Imbroglio Magazine selected this short story for their third issue, which was supposed to be available on print but then was published on Issuu instead:
It had been another difficult car journey, in a difficult week. But just pulling up the drive to Pauline’s house Mumsy began feeling herself again. On the back seat, little Rico sat looking out of the window, waiting for her to open the door. He’s like the pope, she thought, a very precious person in need of very particular treatment. Rico wore no seat belt, he refused, but this did not worry her. She believed that he was charmed. For an instant, her heart welled unbearably.
“Come on Mumsy. Don’t be sluggish.” he said in his breathy voice. Nodding, she hoisted herself out and opened his door.
“Hell-ooo!” Pauline’s voice rang across the gravel and out she came, arms open, dress billowing. Rico accepted his Aunt’s embrace without complaint. It was a necessary ritual, he understood that. Like being frisked entering an important building, and he was gracious in allowing it. As long as relations were strictly below the waist, and he need not encounter the strange bumps on her face in any way, he was happy to oblige. Pauline played her part with all the bluster and dozen-arm fussing of a textbook adoring relative. It was as well-rehearsed an act as any in her domestic arsenal, and she clearly took pleasure in being effective. It reminded her of beating dust from a carpet. Feeling her grip slacken, Rico wriggled free and began towards the house, resuming the half-bored, vaguely contemptuous exploratory strut that he adopted on every visit anywhere.
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