Mum wasn't herself today, she looked distant and pale. Dad told me things in confidence when she was out of the room, I panicked and wanted to cover and protect her with my tiny self. But I didn't of course, I continued talking about football, tennis, the smashing microwaved risotto and David Davis Then we went to the shops, our arms linked.
Got home just now, ate a piece of quiche and a spoonful of salad, want to do something tonight but I don't know what. And I don't know what to do the weekend.
Got down on my knees to Monty and tickled him because it comforted me.
Mr Horsehound is reading in the kitchen, the remnants of our boring supper littering the table, while his awful jacket and shoes are left willy nilly in the hall.
I want a new handbag, a notebook and reassurance.
Monty is at my bare feet as the night keeps coming.