Forty-one

The bell they gave me is loud in the dark, but I don’t care. Adam comes in, bleary-eyed, in his boxers and T-shirt.

‘You left me.’

‘I just this second went down to make a cup of tea.’

I don’t believe him. And I don’t care about his cup of tea. He can drink tepid water from my jug if he’s desperate.

‘Hold my hand. Don’t let go.’

Every time I close my eyes, I fall. Endlessly falling.

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