Pink

Just for a moment the sky was pink, a wispy streak of cloud lit pink. All is calm. The calm before the deluge. Silence, just the whirring of my laptop, which has just reminded me that the blurring on its screen will have to be fixed. Which then brings in all sorts of stress about when is the best time and who can do it. But I park that away in the back of my mind. I’ve things to do till then. It will be solved in the end as all things must, death being the final leveller. I think about it now and then. Not a bad thing to do, I think. I thought of my body this morning, this carcass that at the moment is waterlogged and heavy to carry around, and how it will one day be consigned to the furnace. Gone. All my careful nurturing of it, ended. And his. His precious frame will go the same way. What a grief it all is. I must detach. It isn’t all there is. It is a small thing. A tiny thing. Focus on the sky. Now ain’t that marvellous?

I like her. The woman who served us this morning. I asked about her tattoo. She is still determined to cover it over with a feature. We talked about her garden, how she likes flowers. I slowed her up. But I like her. I feel safe with her. She has nice eyes, he said.

His phone has gone kaput. Gone, died, just like that. It stresses him as it would stress me. He’ll go to see the man in the market about it. Most towns have an indoor market full of stalls selling broken biscuits, pet food and cheap cards. I like them. They also have men who can fix things. Super. We couldn’t find rubber bands this morning in the supermarket. There was a time when there were hardware shops for that sort of thing. No more. It is no more. I’m getting old and the world is getting younger.

Almost completed the review. I’m not sure about what I write or say. I wobble. No, I should accept that this is my opinion. A little damning with faint praise, but perhaps she won’t see it that way. I hope not I want to be honest but not hurtful. Never.

Still no name. Will she let me know? They must have their hands full. Are the family putting in their pennyworth?

I cannot call him. It is like so many of my dreams, I’m trying to find him, get in touch with him and can’t.

The owl was hooting when we came home for Tesco’s. No, not a hoot more like a wail. A wail owl.

Enough. Work now.