But her life was a cacophony of nonsense. A piece that could have gone in wonderful directions, but now went nowhere at all.
Time slipped by. She stared into space. After the wine a realisation hit her with total clarity. She wasn’t made for this life.
Every move had been a mistake, every decision a disaster, every day a retreat from who she’d imagined she’d be.
Swimmer. Musician. Philosopher. Spouse. Traveller. Glaciologist. Happy. Loved.
Nothing. She couldn’t even manage ‘cat owner’. Or ‘one-hour-a-week piano tutor’. Or ‘human capable of conversation’.
The tablets weren’t working. She finished the wine. All of it.
‘I miss you,’ she said into the air, as if the spirits of every person she’d loved were in the room with her.
She called her brother and left a voicemail when he didn’t pick up.
‘I love you, Joe. I just wanted you to know that. There’s nothing you could have done. This is about me.’
‘Thank you for being my brother. I love you. Bye.’
It began to rain again, so she sat there with the blinds open, staring at the drops on the glass.
The time was now twenty-two minutes past eleven. She knew only one thing with absolute certainty: she didn’t want to reach tomorrow.
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