Fiction: There’s a song at the heart of every short story in this book

“There are too many potholes in this city. I can’t wait to move,” a woman of about twenty-three said as she pulled a strand of hair away from her face. She looked beautiful in her black round-framed glasses.

“The place you’re moving to has potholes too,” said the twenty-five-year-old man seated across her at a run-down cafe. He lifted his empty glass slightly and signalled to a waiter, silently requesting a refill.

“But it’s so much more than that,” she grimaced at the plate in front of her, “All the cafes here are dull and their food’s so bland.”

“You used to love this cafe! You claimed that everything on the menu here was a delight to be discovered.”

“But there’s a greater delight to be discovered away from here. If I stay here anymore, I’ll lose my wits. I feel like I’m becoming an old woman. I need to move out, just to be myself again. This time it’ll be perfect.”

“That’s what you said the last four times. Yet here we are again. It’s a pattern that keeps repeating itself.” He took a sip of his water and put the glass down a little too hard, spilling some of it.

“No one gets things right on their...

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