Jetzt online zu lesen auf Transnational Queer Underground.
Eleanor walked up the broken pavement towards the old school, focussing on her feet. Sweat was running down her arms as she balanced two buckets of soapy water in each hand and a bag with brushes on her shoulder. When she reached the hole in the fence, she placed the buckets and the bag under a bush, stood up, and overlooked the dried grassland behind the school. The windows of the nearest apartment blocks were blinded by the afternoon sun. Nobody was to be seen.