Twenty-Eight – Husbands orHusbandry
That look of Michael’s won’t go away. Almostevery day I think about that half hour full of thirty minutes andthose precious 1800 seconds. My life is measured in thirty minutegrabs. I look at my watch constantly and make connections back tothat night. I get pissed off that my mind is playing these kinds oftime tricks but when it occurs I remember all the feelings of thatdefinitive night when I tried to make the wrong right. The wrong isstill not right and I fear there are more wrongs to come.
I set myself an impossible task as I waitfor Mum to pick me up. I try to calculate how many good half hoursand how many bad half hours there have been since that Thursday.It’s no surprise that after a month of difficult calculations theanswer is in the negative.
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