He read out a text he’d had from them. She’s falling. As is he. They’ve told her that there might be bleeds and that they could come at any time, without warning. Her skin has become so thin. There is no protection, no safety. She cannot be saved. My heart bleeds for her, for him and for their children. As she will bleed, does bleed. What can be done but wish them grace, light, and as he wrote – ‘more time to make memories’.
The child in the flat across the way began crying again last night. It wasn’t late by most peoples’ standards but for me it was. It wasn’t crying but screaming. He, or she, I’m not totally sure was screeching. Was it in pain, was it in anger, frustration or fear – I couldn’t tell and waited to hear a soothing adult voice. I couldn’t. I got out of bed in the end and went to him. Shut your window, he said. But I cannot. I need the air and to hear the rain. So I have to let the child be. I slept eventually as did it. I think, though I heard the distant crying long into the night.
