The messaging continues with the Twitcher but no third date has yet been arranged.
“I’m about to descend into a stag do of doom,” the message flashes across my screen yesterday lunchtime. Let’s hope that he enjoys himself and surfaces from it wanting to see me.
Haven’t heard from Seb for a couple of weeks. Presumably his course will break up for Christmas soon and then he will visit. Hope so. Am missing him. It’s been more than a month since I last saw him I think.
Am back at the flat and can hear the sounds of my cousin moving around. Need to get up and do all those Sunday-evening-tasks: prepare supper, put the washing away, unload the dishwasher. Will feel better once I make a start.
“There’s no point,” the panther murmurs in my ear, pressing me back down on the bed with a large paw.
“Stop it,” I tell him. “I have to get up and do things.”
“You can do everything tomorrow,” the panther says, licking my face with his rough tongue.
“You know I have to go to the office tomorrow,” I say, moving away from him, hauling myself out of bed.
Opening the door, I make my way into the corridor. The panther stalks after me on soft paws, tail waving in the air behind him…