But she reached the door without passing out, then dragged the chain lock off the latch and managed, after great effort, to open it.
Please help me.She barely realised it was still raining as she stepped outside in her vomit-stained pyjamas,
passing the step where Ash had stood a little over a day before to announce the news of her dead cat.
There was no one around. No one that she could see.
So she staggered towards Mr Banerjee’s house in a series of dizzy stumbles and lurches, eventually managing to ring the doorbell.
A sudden square of light sprung out from the front window.
The door opened. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and was confused maybe because of the state of her and the time of night.
I’m so very sorry, Mr Banerjee. I’ve done something very stupid. You’d better call an ambulance...
Oh my lord. What on earth has happened?” “Please.” “Yes. I’ll call one. Right away...00:03:48.
And that is when she allowed herself to collapse, forwards and with considerable velocity, right onto Mr Banerjee’s doormat.
The sky grows dark. The black over blue. Yet the stars still dare to shine for you.
The Other Side of Despair
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