A woman walks into the café I’m in. Barista: We’re closing soon. Woman: When? Batista: 3:30 or 4. Woman: That’s a big difference at this time of day. She leaves. The barista shrugs.

A woman ahead of me brushes things with her left hand as she passes them: a lamppost, a hedge, a fence. I do this too, but I’ve never noticed anyone else do it. I think it makes me feel grounded: literally here. I feel comforted to see her do it too, this stranger.

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Miranda Keeling — Author and observer of everyday life.

Get more from Miranda Keeling on Patreon. Author and observer of everyday life.. Support Miranda Keeling and get exclusive access to their work.

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Under a bus shelter, lies an old rusty key on a bright red ribbon.

Little girl on the train: Uncle Mallory died. Her mum: Yes. Little girl: So he won't feel anything now. Her mum: No. Little girl: Which is good because the insects will be eating his eyes.

Woman on a bus (reading from an article): Have you ever discussed your fantasies with your partner? Her friend: Like the one where I’m in a cottage by the sea completely on my own with a book and a cup of tea?

It is so hot on this train. A man leans on his hand as if he’ll melt away otherwise.

A woman wears strappy sandals the colour of bandages, like a badly wrapped mummy at the last phase of coming back to life. Or perhaps she’s a late-stage emerging zombie mummy pretending to be a woman.

Woman seeing a friend on my local high street: Hey. Where we you heading? Her friend: Hairdresser’s. Can’t put it off anymore. If I take it out of this ponytail it doesn’t move.

A hairdresser swivels his client round in a chair to see themselves in the mirror. Above the fabric covering the rest of their body like a tent, they confront their face, hair wrapped in a towel, as though it is not a happy a shock to see their face so naked.

Oh, this 24-hour-doomscrolling and AI-filled world is a load of pants isn’t it? How about a short story entirely written by me, made into a real tiny book by me and posted to you every month? You can put it in your pocket and exhale on your journey to work ☺️ Here: www.patreon.com/cw/MirandaKeeling 📚

Ruins, roots, that sort of thing

When my cat yawns I always think of Fizgig. You’ll know what I mean if you do.

✨Yay! A brand new member of my Short Story Club is about to receive her welcome pack in the post! 💌 Three of my (100% human-written) short stories hand-made into little books by me, with a surprise piece of merch too 🎉 You can try it out for free here: www.patreon.com/cw/MirandaKe...

I give you my word that everything on my Patreon, from my free newsletters, to my journal, short stories and the copy about my subscriptions is 100% human written by me. These things matter so much. If you want to support a real, human writer (me), you can here: www.patreon.com/cw/MirandaKe... 🙏❤️

Miranda Keeling — Author and observer of everyday life.

Get more from Miranda Keeling on Patreon. Author and observer of everyday life.. Support Miranda Keeling and get exclusive access to their work.

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Woman outside Foyles Bookshop: Your 30s are like the worst financially. Man (40s): How old are you? Woman: 23.

A poodle approaches me in the park. Her owner is sitting on the grass looking at his phone. The poodle is very friendly. Her fur clearly used to be well manicured but now, what were short bits are fluffy, and previously fluffy bits, are comically expansive. I like her very much.

Three people walking together are suddenly enveloped in that particular type of silence that follows someone telling a joke that everyone laughed at for absolutely ages, and now nobody knows how to follow it.

Man in the post office earlier: You ok? Woman: Yeah. Man: You seem a bit… Woman: Melancholy? Man: Yeah. What are you thinking about? Woman: The vulnerability of snails.

Guests arrive at a house, carrying flowers and wine. The door opens and a ginger cat runs out. Man from inside: Mell! Mell! Mell! Come on Mell! Mellster McAdam! You know you're not allowed out the front (pause) we've got mackerel! (the ginger cat slinks back inside)

Fancy winning my book? It’s easy to enter. Join my Patreon for free and read my latest July issue to find out how: www.patreon.com/MirandaKeeling 🎁 'This book is a delight ... full of beauty, that could be visible to all of us if we learned to stop and notice as Miranda Keeling does.' Philip Pullman

Someone sits on the train seat in front of mine. Their fingers curl over the seat back. I guess they have their hands up, over, and behind their head. It’s an unnerving image though - disembodied hands hugging the seat. Very Ghostbusters.

A man's dog is trying it on with a woman's dog in the park. Woman: I'll just move away, she's close to her heat. Man (awkwardly): Oh, sorry. He's not got anything left, it's all gone. He's just a romantic. It's the Italian in him. He's a water dog (pause) Oh God, what am I saying? The woman laughs.

Woman in Durham: Just did a 5k. Got overtaken by a man pushing a pram and walking a dog. Man: Oh don’t feel bad. Last year I was overtaken by a guy playing a clarinet.

A woman sits on the Tube. She has a large, intensely textured handbag on her lap. She is saying, ‘So she got what she wanted. And she realised she didn’t want it. But it was too late.’

A woman sits opposite me on the Tube. She wears a green and silver dress - the material stiff, like painted crepe paper. Her head is in a sculptural wrap from the same fabric. Around her neck is a huge, silver fabric necklace. As I get off the train I tell her she looks beautiful. She smiles at me.

Little girl in Newcastle who has just stung herself on a nettle: I need a doctor leaf!

A French woman chatting outside a pub swears and then says, 'Excuse my French.' Woman: I love that you just said that. French woman (laughing): I'm allowed to.

At an adventure playground a man working on reception tells a mum her little girl can’t go in wearing the mum’s phone on a cord to take photos. The mum is annoyed. She asks why. The man pretends to strangle himself. He continues to act it very well, until she finally says ‘OKAY!’ and takes it off.