Lost Christmas…

The clock said January; somewhere around the start of it to be more precise. I was coming up from sleep and the world was waiting, but not with baited breath. We had been here before.

At the side of me was the warmth. The pillow was depressed and the duvet was pulled back, just enough for a quiet escape. I think that there was the scent of perfume loitering from the previous night. The shower was running. I turned over and reached for the cup of tea that had been placed on my bedside cabinet, still warm. I sat myself upright, adjusted the pillows to support me, and took the first sip.

With the collar of my coat pulled up as defence against the dark morning, I walked, head down, into the rush-hour. Usually, there are more people around and that is a little comforting in the way that people…