Maybe possessions were like... «Crudo»
robot13 января 2019Maybe possessions were like beauty, they made you impermeable. Kathy loathed permeability, she wanted to be gilded, I mean everyone did. The thing about wrenching her heart open was that suddenly loss was everywhere, in the window boxes of geraniums on Kingston Street, in the conkers that had blown gleaming into a skip. Fuck September, with its mournful air. Kathy wanted to bed down by a fire and not leave the house till March but she was flying back to America in ten days. Conveyancing, boarding pass, papers to grade, hotel reservations in Virginia and DC. Some little well was empty, it was weird. Kathy had definitely been this tired, maybe not this scared.
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