30th April, Early Afternoon.
An overwhelming sense of dread strikes me as we’re walking around town, in the sunshine. I don’t tell Best Mate. She’s got enough on her plate as it is. I just can’t shake it off. Even now, as I write this (still offline) it is with me.
It is warm outside and there is nothing more I would prefer doing than sitting at some café with a beer with Best Mate watching the world go by but we are here because the furniture restorers are returning any moment now to finish off the bookcase.
Then, perhaps, I can get the lounge into some sort of order and open my boxes of books as, now, without a book to read, I feel something is missing, even if, were the books all out and on display, I wouldn’t be reading.
The time with Best Mate is nearly over. It’s far too soon, even if we seem to have done nothing. Maybe that’s why the feeling of dread. Did it come before or after she reminded me she was going home tomorrow?
The sun streams through the window making the right side of me hot. The left is cold so that I may have to put a jumper on.