06.25 Sunday.
I awake without an alarm.
I notice two things.
The very cold mug of hot chocolate that I fell asleep before drinking.
My bed is broken.
I can do something about the hot chocolate – but instead I resolve to drink it cold as soon as I’ve eaten breakfast.
I can’t do anything about the broken bed.
It’s broken because I am the only occupant.
Is that why I’ve woken up so early on a Sunday; because my body and/or mind have noticed that The Lovely S isn’t here?
It’s 06.30 now.
I’m too knackered to get out of bed but I force myself to.
Downstairs I stagger about the kitchen and cobble together the ingredients of a mug of tea and a bowl of porridge.
I return to my broken bed.
And read – pausing to eat and drink tea.
Miss her.
B.