I am at my desk when you come in, and flutter down onto my bed. Your dress spreads out like a squashed balloon. I get the impression that I was meant to be somewhere today. But as I do, I get caught up in my work.
You look over the large fruit bowl on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Selecting carefully an apple from the pile. I can hear crunching as you enjoy a few bites, covering your mouth with a finger as you chew.
“So are we going to do this?” You say.
I look up, swing my chair around. Before taking a final look at my work. I pick up a piece of fruit in answer to your question.