Rebecca Gransden

Sunrise mist settles on a badger corpse. Dean swerves the van to avoid it. “Damn things.” He rights the off-white van. “You’d think they would learn to stay off the roads.” “I don’t think animal minds work like that.” Safe resettles himself on his passenger side. The van has one of those seats that stretch the entire width of the vehicle. Bouncy as hell. The early morning haze tumbles over scraggy fields and occupies the innards of roadside hedges.