Four years

My head hurts. I smashed it on the boot of my car on Saturday. There was blood, which scared me, frankly. But the real low point of the weekend was when I trod on one of Tip Little’s pintsize turds, in socks. Tip was so eager to rejoin his brother, with the aim of beating the living fucking daylights out of Poodle Murphy in his penguin suit, that he erupted from the cat litter box mid-poo, trailing miniscule dung in his wake. It all happened so fast that before I knew it, there was a perfect circle faecal feline squish on the hall floor, which is boarded not carpeted, thank goodness, and sock squelch.


It is four years since I first met Matt since I first got that fantastic floaty sinking never going back feeling since I fell into the well of terrifying high wire tremble walk finding faraway stranger crazy endless emails pictures phone calls stories secrets first meeting making promises heart giving four years since true love came crashing over my head since that moment we said out loud that we were everything to each other. That we were forever. I was living underwater until four years ago when I first saw his beautiful face wobble and shimmer with bright lights up there on the surface and I flew out gasping for air, into the sound of another incredible world.