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| Scribbles |
It's raining. It makes me think of a funeral in a television drama, or a Sunday afternoon in the early 1980s with nothing to look forward to.
I'm sitting in my study, unable to hear but acutely aware of someone else two rooms away. I woke up in the night when he walked down the corridor. I crept past my husband to fetch him an extra duvet, which wasn't needed.
Behind me, a couple of hours in bed together; ahead, more. But the past swims up around me.
This present, this now, here. Pain before it, pain after, and more pain caused by it. Who the fuck do I think I am to deserve it? But I just happen to be here.
(Replies not enabled because I'm just emoting, sorry. It's just the feeling of a moment, it passed very quickly.)
Edited Mon 22 Feb 10, 11:55 AM by Scribbles
