The next day when I emerge from the cabin around noon—head fuzzy, stomach upset—the sun hangs high in the sky, bathing West Waters in the light I remember from my youth. But I’m no longer ten years old. I’m forty and a mess.
When I walk back inside to check the fridge and find it near-empty, I consider my options. For some reason—always the same one—I can’t bear the thought of bright supermarket lights, so I decide to take a load of laundry to the shop at reception and pick up some unhealthy snacks while I’m there. I also want to apologize to Kay… until I remember her parting words from last night. But still, I want to express at least a little bit of regret over my baffling ignorance when it comes to her.
Unwashed—I’ll have a swim and a shower later—I trudge down the path to reception,
