Those differences between Nina and me – you know, the ones we’d agreed to overcome – flared up again on the walk home after Sunday lunch.
I spotted the monster long before she did. You know how I almost know they’re there before I see them? So I tried to make her look anywhere but at it. Didn’t work, obviously. She saw it and went: Wait, I need to take a picture. Isn’t it pretty? I stayed on the path; she told me to come closer. That’s when it burst out of me.
‘Vile fluttery things. They’re nothing but overrated, colourful moths.’