Send Nudes: By the winner of the BBC National Short Story Award 2022

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I still remember where I was when I first encountered a Saba Sams story ... A highly perceptive and intelligent writer' NICOLE FLATTERY Blue pulls the t-shirt over her head. It’s green, with little frills at the sleeves. On it is stitched a felt bumble bee and the words Bee Kind.

Blue gives a twirl. Stella knows that most grown women in that outfit would look crazy, but Blue manages to pull it off. In one way it’s an incredible boost to have a book out and to know people are reading it, and on the other hand when I think about that too hard it’s completely terrifying. I can’t let myself believe that the novel I’m writing at the moment is going to be published at some point, otherwise I completely freeze up.Blue laughs. Am I going to feature in an upcoming exhibition, Franklin Royce? Franklin Royce is Frank’s public name. Stella’s never heard anyone call him that in real life before. Stella only knows such details because Frank has told her. Frank is obsessed with his photography equipment. The day before they caught their flight out here, Stella watched him line up his camera, lenses and film canisters in the rectangle of light coming in through his bedroom window before taking a photograph of them on his phone.

But to see the title as disconnected from the gnarly truths explored is to ignore how complicated the act of sending a nude photo is. The phrase may remind readers of ultra-forward guys on Tinder, but, as the titular story shows, the act is underpinned by more serious matters too: consent, self-confidence, who and what society deems attractive.

In the kitchen, they boil the samphire and chop it fine with other ingredients, like capers and red onion, to make a relish. There’s a barbeque on the veranda, and Blue lines fillets of white fish over the coals. The flood lights are on in the pool, and the water looks like a huge turquoise crystal. Stella turns and runs through the house. In her bedroom, Blue’s velour dress is a loop on the floor. On the dresser, the cherry stones have lost their shine. Stella crawls into bed, pulls her knees up beneath her chin, and waits. Jasmine blushes even more then. She has her eyes on her empty plate, and she looks to Stella like she might start to cry. Nico is smiling a little, amused.