'6' by Nick Black

Year’s first mow, the roar of cut grass in his nostrils, a weak tickle of antihistamines in his blood.  The birds are interested, a pair of robins on the fence eager to jump in once he’s finished.  He’s slung the headphones he’s supposed to wear around his neck, doesn’t like barriers between himself and the world and he likes to hear the birds, before and after the petrol motor.  Spends his days dirtygloving his phone to identify them on Merlin, today already a Eurasian Blackcap, a Great Tit and a Wren, on top of the robins now tucking into the lawn.  The minute he’s heard them, he’s forgotten how they all sound, so it’s a non-stop occurrence, slowing him down.

A face pops into the kitchen window as he’s packing up; he raises a hand to wave, but they’ve gone.  He thinks back to remember when Matthew, his boss, last called, realises this could end up being his sixth day in a row without actually speaking to anyone, which vaguely interests more than bothers him.  

His truck’s parked in the shade and he takes his time loading the mower and blower, goosebumps eventually rising on his forearms and throat to meet the morning air.   According to his schedule, he should be halfway to the next job by now but today’s his birthday and if feeling the difference between hot and cool’s a present he can take for himself, he’s going to take it.


Blackbird, he thinks.  Robin, says his phone.

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Nick Black manages 2 public libraries in North London. His story collection Positive and Negative is published by Ad Hoc Fiction. He posts as @fuzzynick on Bluesky