Alexander
I confirm first thing monday morning that the boys will be changing schools. Brenda draws up the letters I dictate to her, and I sign them off with a shaky hand before she faxes them through to their headmaster.
I send Claire an email telling her it’s done, and also telling her the boys are free to attend Terry’s shitty kids’ club on a Sunday afternoon.
My whole world is spinning on its f*****g axis.
My mouth is parched no matter how many Americanos Brenda brings me from the coffee shop next door.
I’m listless in my client meetings and I’m clumsy with the board report amendments that need my bastard input.
I hate how out of control I feel. I hate the wriggling worm of vulnerability in my gut.
I hate how painful it feels to find my heart still beating.
I’m staring into the
