I have spent most of Sunday doing what I have already done five times before: inspecting my project photographs with increasingly forensic attention.
They are just not right.
And I am still no closer to talking myself back from the ledge I seem to be teetering on.
A ledge I do not want to look at too closely.
By the time I step into photography class on Monday morning, I have already had biology with Owen and a suspicious cup of coffee that did absolutely nothing to improve my mood.
I feel flat.
The warmth and charm of Saturday night faded abruptly the following morning, leaving me with an even greater awareness of what had been missing from the evening with Dan.
Owen asked how it went, and I was honest with him. All the right things were there, but somehow they had refused to add u
