Then, it was six weeks since my wife’s death. I thought about her and missed her every night, and really, every waking hour of every day as well.He ...ropped into the chair across from me. I was sitting under the umbrella on the patio.“How are you feeling this afternoon, Dave?” he said. I looked slowly around at him and shrugged.“Okay,” I said. “But, I wanna get home as soon as I can. I have to pack up things and sell the house. I can’t live there anymore, too many memories.” He nodded.“I. Martha – no, Mara -spends 17 minutes at afternoon tea instead of the regulated 10. You’re tapping the sap and she’s pouring out stories of the boy with learning difficulties making the beautiful woman sad and giving the sad woman something to design herself against. Mara was a massage therapist for three years, she had anorexia when she was 15, she chews her fingers til they’re pink, she loves horses, she teaches literacy to prisoners on public holidays, she has a barbell through her labia. She. More

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