A novel by C.J. Stretton
	The broken coffee-cup blinked up at Susan from the kitchen table. Each discrete shard deliquesced into a tiny mercury pool, and each perfect and effulgent liquid shilling rolled to the edge of the table, terminator2-like, to meet her precipitating tears. The figs in the basket; brownblackgreenpurple. They could not be blamed for this. Susan left the table, unsure of protocol when faced with broken crockery. Her forehead creased in confusion. A valley of skin and muscle that, unknown to Susan, was microscopically deeper than any previous frown had burrowed. This new lineament would remain with Susan to her death. It would serve as a warning to others: I am old, and I have troubles. Women’s Hour tuned back into Susan’s consciousness, though not for long. She crossed the linoleum to switch the plug. Fade to silence: an empty canvas for her tears, which began again to fall.
		And Figs Might Leaf is a short novel about love, regret, and figs. The narrator takes us on a journey through the kitchens of 3 women; each with a shared secret. Funny and sad at the same time, the story ambitiously attempts to answer all of life’s questions. It fails. Praise for And Figs Might Leaf: “Rarely has the mundane been blown up to such importance” Andy Ross, http://www.free-fiction.com/ “Melancholic and fresh – like good Figs…definitely be interested to read more” Carol Michel, Random House More And Figs Please contact the author for further details