About the work

It was the last thing her son bought with his pocket money, from the claw machine outside the newsagent. She told him it was a waste, that those machines were rigged. He’d ignored her, of course, intent on the shimmering prizes. When she found it by the door, she knew he’d dropped it after hearing her call him in for dinner. The pavement was still damp from the rain, and for a moment she thought she might leave it there. She wonders what he’ll say when he realises it’s gone.