I was late for work this morning, I had my doctor’s appointment, he asked if I’d seen any pattern in this diary and I had to tell him no, I could see nothing. No food, no activity, not exercise or daylight or happiness or air pollution or temperature. He frowned and admitted that sometimes it was practically impossible to find the causes behind these things. he prescribed me some stronger painkillers.
I told Dominic I didn’t think we should see each other any more. He just nodded.
“All I do is talk to you,” I said.
“I know,”
“That’s all I do, all I do is talk. It’s no good, you never say anything. What is it that you think about? I don’t know.”
“You’re right.” he said. “I don’t know what I think about.”
Debbie wasn’t at work when I got back. The weird silence was in the air. I asked Sue where Debbie was and she just said that she had left and she probably wouldn’t be back, at least for a few months. No one would tell me anything else.
I ate a salmon sandwich, an apple and lasagne.
