I gazed at the heavy, golden orb of pastry in my hand,
reminiscent of a halo. Icing sugar fell like snow across my
Agda stopped walking. She looked back at him, at the row of
stupid little hairs above his lips. 'Please don't futz this up,
Michael Cera. Too many people would be disappointed.'
Malcolm, Hope you found the key easily enough. Make yourself
Stilts is a literary collective
based out of Melbourne. We work with words in print, on screen, and
Stilts is a self-funded project.