But Always Meeting Ourselves

"e;The time machine first arrived during the summer. I was outside, mowing the lawn, when it insinuated itself into the shrubbery. The time machine was a tall yellow cylinder, like a can of pop someone had stretched. I remember it smelt like the carpets at my grandmother's house, which I had crawled across as a child. I turned off the lawn mower. A slot opened in the machine and my future self climbed out."e;So begins "e;But Always Meeting Ourselves"e;, a darkly comic tale by Leo Hunt about gardening, memories and the terrible consequences of being able to go back.Originally published in issue thirty-six of Neon, this short story is now available as an individual eBook edition. Read more about it at www.neonmagazine.co.uk, or visit Leo at coldstarharbor.tumblr.com.