'Thick, black soil wedged under her nails like cake. Shards of dinnerware, weathered glass and terracotta littered the dirt between weedy carrots and slug-laced silverbeet.
'Close up, against the high brick wall, the last arc of the sun was warm but the evening chill was already in Milla’s digging fingers and in any trace of shadow. The sleeves of her woollen jumper were damp and the smell of wood-smoke was settling over the street.' (Publication extract)
