“Jenny Lee has died,” Annabel told Jim.
Jim worried about how very pale and thin Annabel looked. She appeared much older than her age and the news of Jenny just filled him with more trepidation.
“I feel so weak and I ache all over,” Annabel complained. “I think I might write a book.”
“What?” Jim was surprised by the lack of connection between the two statements.
Annabel had barely left her bed since collapsing at Mark’s the previous month.
Outside, the rain continued to fall; it felt like it hadn’t stopped for weeks and large portions of the country were flooded again.
“What are you going to write a book about?” he asked, but Annabel was not paying attention anymore.
Jim’s stretch distracted him by notifying him he had new messages in his inbox.
The first was from the local counc
