“Huh?” I said, mouth agape.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” said Conscience. “You’ve got buckets of work to do.”
There was a pause.
“And you’re reading.”
Pizza. In Italy. In the mountains. In an Irish bar. The house special. As big as a cart-wheel. Delicious. More than delicious. Amazing. Nothing will beat it. An explosion of gentle taste.
Night time. Writing. Finishing the last sentence of a story. Tired. Rolling into bed.
Airports = queuing. Queues that stretch on and on. Walking forwards, standing still. Eavesdropping. Attempting not to be seen eavesdropping.
Airplanes = snoring. Behind me. Withholding giggles. Fighting back the smile that creeps across my face.
Gasp. A dramatic, movie-type of one – a spider in the kitchen sink. A big one. Several rapid steps backwards.
Rain. Hitting the window pane. Wishing to simply sit and watch.
Singing. He loves me. He cares for me. He will always be with me.
… and life goes on