Remember Me This Way
“It’s cold and bleak, miserable without a car. I was going to drive down in Charlotte’s Golf, but a bottle of milk had spilled on the passenger seat and, although she says she scrubbed it clean, I can still taste it at the back of my throat, sour and curdled like the skin of an old person.The wind on the clifftop walk to the village is icy. I managed to lug a bag of logs up from the farm shop to make a fire. It lasted an hour, but I couldn’t keep the logs straight. As they burned, one of them ke...pt slipping out of place. I tried not to look, but it was no good. My eye was constantly drawn. I couldn’t sit still. I felt as if my skin were crawling. In the end, I stamped out the flames with my foot. I’m waiting for the ashes to cool so I can sweep out the grate. I’ll feel better when it’s clean. If I had a car, I could drive to the Shell garage for rectangular eco briquettes. You can line those up.This agitation, it’s much worse than usual, even with the pills. I’m not in control.The double life is killing me.MoreLess
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