by Rae White
I don’t see the unicorn at first. I’m walking with my head down, thumb scrolling my phone in search of movie reviews. I kick the cubicle door open with my foot and catch it with my elbow. I’m immediately struck by the fresh smell of eucalyptus but even that doesn’t get me to look up.
It’s not until I lock the door behind me and put my phone down beside the sink, that I notice the small mound of glittered feathers curled beside the toilet, their long tail reaching up and hanging loosely around the flush lever.
I stare at the vivid plumes and muscular curves, taking in the distinctly Australian scent of their tiny form: a combination of strong eucalyptus, wattle and mulch. There’s another smell too: the smell of shit.
As I walk closer to the breathing shape, I notice three things: the glassy cone…
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