The Crash

They watched it on the news, he and Sylvia. Men on phones, their faces white and strained. Phone cords in a large room criss-crossed over and over like confused knitting. A giant jersey unravelling. The future of some of New Zealand's leading companies is now Very Uncertain, said the newsreader.

Now they'll have to live like the rest of the bloody country, said Sylvia.
Will this be like the Depression? he asked her.
Nah, just less BMWs in town, she said.

He read a history book about the Crash at the end of the Roaring Twenties. People jumped from buildings. They bought too many cars and refrigerators and then they were spent. It was called the Crash because the people fell, smashed their bodies open on the ground. People came down like punctured balloons. The party ended on the footpath.