The Moon Laundry

Between two hills there is a washing line. It has been there longer than anyone remembers, and every night two badgers come out of their door in the bank to use it. Bramble carries the tub. Mim carries the pegs. And together they wash what the day has left behind — the dust off the leaves, the noise out of the wind, the fingerprints off the moon. Four short stories, made to be read out loud at the end of the day. Nothing goes wrong in them. Nobody gets lost. They are quiet on purpose.