Twenty-Two – Less Talk.More Inaction?
‘Looks like you’ve justseen a ghost,’ Michael remarks as I hurry down the Letitia Streetsteps. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’
It’s after four o’clock. Michael’s skatesare still dangling over his shoulder. He picks up his briefcase andstarts walking. Neither of us have any idea where we are going. Theweather is quite balmy for autumn and ‘my Xerxes’ is still in shortsleeves. I would like to have another look at his armpits but mymeeting with Miss Hastie is still fresh in my mind.
We walk past North Hobart Football Oval. Themain gates are open.
‘We could go in there andsit down for a chat,’ Michael suggests but seeing the coming andgoing of foot and vehicle traffic soon cancels out this idea.Without realizing it we have reached the intersection of Ne
