Megan Anderson
Bio
Loves a yarn. Draws a bit. Sings in the yard. Spells things the Australian way.
Stories (19/0)
Going up
Theirs was a hate-hate relationship, but there were payoffs. For Casey, it was money. Paltry, but enough to get her closer to where she needed to be. For Ryan, it was social mobility. With her in his life, he got to experience the city like he never would on his own. When they stepped out together, they owned the Upper East side. Nobody remarked on the age gap – she was 17 years his senior – yet privately it was the thing that put them most at loggerheads. They barely had a thing in common. Casey was a singer, a dancer, fully alive to the Manhattan offering, an Australian abroad, brimming with dreams. Ryan was single minded, quarrelsome, self-absorbed, contrary. A New York native, not quite three years old.
By Megan Anderson2 years ago in Fiction
The Wrong Caesar
Day one, new job, two hours down. I’m riding that disorienting wave particular to new recruits: hyper speed meets slow motion as I mentally pin names to all the new faces, grapple with the archaic computer system, wonder when coffee happens, fantasise about gin.
By Megan Anderson2 years ago in Confessions
