Linda seems nervous, but I can hear her husband talking loudly even as I slip out to the kitchen. Originally I’d planned to reveal how I knew about my husband and Linda over pudding. But now I’m not sure. I overhear talk about barbecues, daytrips, cards. It sounds nice. Neighbourly.
1 comment:
In between absolute darkness and the spring light, the innocence of the dawn chorus makes a third space – I want call it a trill-ogy, to make up a new name – punctuating man's slow start to the day. Except for one bloody bird who always spoils it. Every time.
Post a Comment