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Trainer

Someone had left a child’s trainer on the top of the railing along North Road. It was a tiny shoe. Lost, or mislaid no doubt and someone finding it had placed it there. There’s a sadness to it. Will it be mourned by parent or child? Was it much loved?

The wind was strong. The tide had been high and lashed the Perygyl before I’d arrived.

Almost done. I think.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.