The front door swings open and my big, jolly dad’s face dissolves from a wide grin into tears in the space of a few seconds. I drop my backpack on the landing of the stairs as he pulls me into a hug, and my eyes are wet too. Pressed into his chest, I breathe deeply. He smells like aftershave, motor oil and Solvol soap; like Dad.

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Melanie Saward

Spring 2023

Embrace Australia’s finest writers

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Embrace Australia’s finest writers

Fiction

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