'Tethered' by Anushree Nande

The day’s heat still shimmered on everything visible from the porch. Mira itched to get up and keep walking until everything melted away, but for the head drooping in her lap. She stroked her daughter’s hair just to have something to do with her hands.

It would soon be the end of the summer and Sara’s first day of school. Soon, she would be beyond the blurred horizons of their safe, little world. The condensation on her half-empty glass of lemonade towed Mira back to the old house with the cracked, peeling emerald shutters and the stuffy rooms that closed in on her until she had to run out, run away, into the forest bordering their town. Fresh summer lemonade was the only thing her mother couldn’t screw up, the only thing Mira returned for, filling up an old Pepsi bottle. Mira automatically clenched her jaw before remembering that she was 900 miles away from everything she didn’t want for her own daughter.

There was a sudden gust of wind, bringing with it the sharp smell of moss. Just like that, she was back in the clearing, the palm against the bark of her favourite fir. She slid down and curled up, her heartbeat finally steady. Under the stars watching from a clear cobalt sky, with the desert all around her, Mira closed her eyes and heard the trees she thought she’d lost forever.