The exception that proves the rule. A blog of short writings from Australia and England.
Monday, 6 July 2015
Return To Sender
We walk towards a nondescript looking hedge and you tell me this is where your father died. We sit down and my hand hovers behind your back whilst I watch you cry. After a while, I close my eyes and let my hand drop back down to my side as my mind drifts off to somewhere beautiful, full of sunshine. I could listen to your pain but I'm sorry, life's too short, I haven't the time. It's someone else's turn to listen to mine.