Winner of the 2025 Disquiet Literary Prize for Fiction, Perrin’s story is a slow reveal of a relationship gone wrong between two women. I love the gradual unwinding of their history, and the ending is perfect.

Three weeks ago, I left the city. I’d planned to knock on Jane’s door, to try and reconnect, to repair what had been broken. But as I was pacing this street, working myself up to it, I heard a garage open, and there she was. I ducked behind the neighbors’ hedges and watched her walk down the driveway. Through the boxwood, I could tell her hair was several bottles blonder. She looked like she’d gained weight. Her eyebrows were thicker, darker, maybe laminated. She was wearing a pink sundress – she hates pink – and I realized as she picked up the newspaper how much time could pass in a year. It occurred to me that I no longer knew her.