“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.
Peace.
… and life goes on
