Four attacks today. One of them was at home, but the other three were at work. Only one of them lasted over ten seconds. I had to go to the bathroom for that and sit there with my head in my cold hands, waiting. I don’t think anyone noticed because when I came back, Debbie started talking to me about her daughter.
“She’s looking for work at the moment, but it’s hard isn’t it? She’s about your age.”
“Mmhmm,” I said.
I had a yoghurt for lunch, and a salad for dinner and the strange silences continue, the phone calls carried out in low, urgent voices stretch out across the day.
