The Long Goodbye*

“So,” Seb says.  He’s parked just outside the flat.  We’ve just been out to lunch.

“Yeah,” I say, my gaze fixed on his toned, tanned forearm as it rests on the steering wheel.  His other arm is round my waist.  Don’t want to look at his face in case I burst into tears.  Again.  He’s going off to university right now.

“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks,” he says, stroking my hair.  “And you can come and stay with me.  On the train.”

“Yes,” I say, turning to look into his turquoise eyes, fixing his face in my mind.  “I’d better make the train journey before it’s deep winter and…you’d better get going darling.”  He’s got a seven hour journey ahead of him.  It’s already almost three o’clock in the afternoon.

“I love you,” he whispers into my hair.

“I love you so much,” I say, throwing my arms round his neck.  “Drive safely.”

Disengaging myself from his embrace, I climb out of the car and set off towards my flat.  But after a few steps I turn round and run back to the car.  Seb is filling his smoking device with its special liquid.  He looks up, sees me and opens the door and we have another cuddle.  He looks sad and I’m crying and…

Anyway, now it’s 5.15pm and I’m at the gym.  I’m going to write this on the bike; lift a few weights and that will take my mind off Seb’s departure.  And work off at least some of all the huge meals we’ve been consuming over the last couple of days.

And tomorrow is the joy of The Office.  And we’re through to the Davis Cup Final, which is amazing.

Attached photo is a rose bush, now that the flowers are dead.

Happy Sunday everyone!
*1953.  By Raymond Chandler.  Hardboiled detective novel starring Philip Marlowe.

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