January – June / Serial Book

15 January

It was cold.

Low clouds. Rain. Grey. A flash of lightning.

She held a little shadow in her hand, from the curtains.

Then drew them. Back.

‘I’m going to walk today,’ she said. Eyes on the tree outside.

It was blank and barren and gave nothing away.

Bare feet on the cold wood. Shiny sink with a single implement.

Coffee. Warm hands.

They looked at her. The lilies. Sprightly.

‘It’s a shame,’ she said.

‘It’s a shame I’m not ill today.’

‘Yes,’ they said. ‘It’s a shame.’

The shower was too warm, then too cold, then just perfect.

Face first, then hair, then body. Then minutes in silence.

The coffee shop was quiet too.

Jack came back. She just wrote ‘ass.’

He gave her the finger.

He’d be back tomorrow.

Then he came. And she should have felt something, but she didn’t.

‘Ass?’ He asked.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Black coffee?’

‘Indeed,’ he said.

She made it. He took it. Then turned.

And turned again.

And turned again.

Just as well, she thought.

Just as well.