I'm on my own. It is bracing in its emptiness, gone is comforted by my solitude. What am I going to do with my night? It is still, quiet; my tinnitus gets louder as I think about being alone, as if to mock.
The garden is green, outside, through my clean windows. Nothing moves. Leaves caught in suspended animation. The flowers mauve. I've opened the window, the freshness filtering through the room feels like life seeping in. Essence.
No plans. No friends calling. I've been to lunch with my family in the country. It was nice. I've just been dropped home, in a Lexus. I've made tea. My skin tingles, a shiver runs through my bones.
Silence. Blink, blink.
The rain starts to fall.
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