And then?
It was Friday – best day of the week.
By the fountain someone was driving his moped in a circle, a
double bass strapped to his back.
The police turned away and a small crowd gathered.
She drove home.
In the village the circus had started their show; she drove
on.
The cat was waiting.
She made a salad, filled the washing machine with the week’s
sweat and grime and slipped into something else.
She ate.
She sat outside.
She watched the storm clouds massing, darker and darker.
It might rain.
There might be thunder.
So what?
She slept outside.
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