Un oeuf is un oeuf (Equinox story) by Cara

I was told that the spring equinox was the only day you could balance an egg on its end. The house didn’t feel like the appropriate place for natural magic, so I took an egg up on to the moors and found a flat stone. But when I put my hand in my bag it came out covered in shell and yolk, the white trailing behind.

I waited a year.

I went on to the moors again, this time with the egg in my hand and no bag. Just my keys in my pocket. 

The egg stood upright on the rock. I left it there and in the morning it had rolled over and smashed on the floor. You’ll just have to trust me.

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