Refuge

His life in ruins, Danny, teetering above an abyss, called the only people who’d answer.

When his grandfather arrived, he shook Danny’s hand and helped load his possessions into the car.

On the way, they talked about the weather, the football, the price of petrol. His grandmother greeted them at the door.

“Nan,” he said, ashamed to meet her eye. She smiled and rubbed his shoulder.

“Put your things in the back room. I’ll make lunch,” she said. Danny maintained his composure until he saw a crisply made single bed and, at its end, a fluffy towel and flannel, both neatly folded.

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