More than a thousand.

The drive back from the hospital     -      was uneventful.  

 

Thank you.

Small mercies.

 

It was night by the time he drove down through the forest to the house, the shepherd’s delight of the evening long gone. As the darkness settled in, only the light from the headlamps offered hope.    A hare     -    sleek, beautiful    -   hopped across the track and climbed the bank, before disappearing into the trees. At the next turning, the white rears of two deer reflected the hope back and he smiled as he watched them slowly drop from sight, he was in no hurry to restart the engine.         He sat           -         waited.

 

It started to rain.

 

The drops      -      diamonds    -   ran down the windscreen. One. Two      -     six. Then there were too many to see, their unpolished beauties merged into a formless wash. He drove on and parked closer to the house than usual, he would have to run to her sanctuary or become

           wet.

 

In the entrance he pulled off his soaking shoes and threw them in the box where others more suitable for the weather lay unused    -    hers    -     the door      -     open. The rain fell like a waterfall and through it he could see little      -   imagine    -    too much.

 

What if?

 

Where?

 

Would he?                        Leave?                         Stay?

 

He closed the door, but didn’t move. He could the rain, heavy on the stone path. The table outside.

 

The empty wheel barrow. 

 

He could hear the pipes gasping, the radiators sighing. 

 

His heart.

 

Hers.

 

From a thousand miles.