Downloadable PDF: Chapter 9
With a flourish, even fidgeting through music has its end-point and she’s calmly standing, watching wax change state, as I finish off my drink and draw a breath.
“Shall” (I say) “we wander more?”
“Let’s” (she says) “meander.”
“You” (I say) “meander, then.”
“I’ll, as” (she says) “you wander.”
Is one way really rushing to be done with it?
Is the other way avoidance and delay?
If I walk over the water and across the road, I’ll be merged with the final paragraphs.
“What will you call it all?” She speaks into my thoughts, as I noisily put chair back under table.
“Um… ‘One Summer’s Day’?”
“I like it.”
“No promises.”
“None taken.”
william altoft 