When I left to buy some more milk, the fruit bowl held some not-quite-ripe bananas and a plump navel orange. I’d never got around to cutting it up. When I returned and pushed through the front door, the place had a kind of sweet and stale smell. The bananas had sprouted wings and morphed into a slimy puddle. The orange had metatised into a greenish puffball that collapsed in on itself when I nudged it. Everything looked unfamiliar. Inside the fridge the contents cringed back from the sudden light. Who was it that lived here, and what did they eat?


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