Contemporaneous: Chapter 45
45. Sunday morning, I’m in bed, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, an attempt to escape reality, but knowing I’m now at a time in the morning I have to face the day. That truth ushers in an unnavigable dread – this knowing that there’s maybe sixteen waking hours where I have to live in this new reality, but it’s a reality that I don’t want any part of. The worst thing is I don’t see an end to this. Even my relationship with Lana, as inexorable as it might’ve seemed when I was in it, always felt finite. This doesn’t. All that remains is the infinity of…
04
I lie in bed, the shock creating an unreality that obviates any tiredness. Earlier in the morning, my best friend’s husband rang to say that she had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. The rest of the day unfolded in numbness. It’s cliché, but there aren’t many other ways to describe the response to such terrible news – it’s an impenetrable and unprocessable disbelief. Other things tumble faintly through my mind; I was meant to pursue a job prospect. Two years of Covid, lockdowns, mandates, et al, had left me unemployed, but an application for one job had opened another possibility in publishing. I had a couple of freelance writing gigs…
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