When The Temperature Rises*

The flat phone rings at 4.38pm.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hello my lovely,” Seb says.

“How did you know I was here?” I say.  “It’s Monday.  I ought to be at the office.  I mean – I was at the office but I came home because I’ve got a temperature and…”

“Oh yes,” Seb says.  “I suppose it is Monday.”

“How are you darling?” I say, sitting down on the sofa.  My legs wobble – that’s a sign of a temperature.

“Well I got some readings for my project,” Seb says.  “But I still need to get some more.  Have to go back to the shore tomorrow or…”

“Well done for getting on with it,” I say, closing my eyes.  My head is spinning.

“I have to work really hard this week because you’re coming to see me at the weekend,” Seb says.

“Let’s hope I’m better by then,” I say.  “Don’t want to make you ill, darling.”

“Oh, don’t worry my lovely, you won’t,” Seb says.  “I’m sitting in lectures with all these teenagers sneezing and coughing and I’m fine.”

“I’m going back to bed,” I say.  “Have to be better for the office tomorrow.”

“I’ll get on with my work then,” Seb says.  “Speak later.”

The attached photo is the park near the office.

Happy Monday everyone!
*2012.  By Deborah Palumbo.  A crime noir novel set in 1948.


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