Showed up at work without the bag of files you took home for the long weekend. Plain forgot. Heart’s not in it.
Gulped a whirl of gnats during the ride back to Pontcanna. Yecked most of them onto the tip of your tongue and out. The trail is narrower day by day. Nettles, ground elder and bramble leaves crowding in on both sides, craning for a splash of sunlight. Also dandelion clocks and, as of the weekend, buttercups.
one shower. The river’s
a stony bed.