friday evening as usual

The deck still glistens with water, but at last the sky is clear save for those high, light grey clouds that are no more threatening than birdsong.

The sun has dropped behind the hills and when she stands at the window looking west she sees her reflection and that of the bright kitchen before she sees the garden and the football pitch which marks the border of the town.

Dinner has been eaten and the dishes are clean and she wants nothing more than to be curling up with him, the cats and perhaps a good film, and yet; and yet, the world feels suffused with that quiet sadness that is a Friday night sunset after a long week of rain.



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