I think I’ve talked for long enough, tonight at least. By now the rooster outside is filling his lungs and a milky residue is beginning to swirl in the sky like the first drops of cream in well-brewed coffee.
God I hate morning.
I hope you are no longer upset, Verity, and that your next letter will intone as much. I hope, too, that for your sake you’re in control of whatever situation you have gotten yourself into, and for what it’s worth you’re forever in my thoughts.
If possible – and not too much to ask – please keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow. As well as financial reasons (a pressing matter in themselves) the solitude of unemployment in an alien town is beginning to take its toll. I sometimes forget where my thoughts stop and the real world starts. Only yesterday I walked into the town’s general store and instinctively went to open a beer straight from the fridge. It’s the company I miss. Nothing quite as grandiose as camaraderie.