I pull my sister tight to my chest and kiss her head, because gestures are easier than words sometimes.Īnd then, as another first of all the firsts these past few days, I sit down at the kitchen table and breathe. I shower quickly, then make my boy his breakfast and watch him choose his own TV channel. I tip my head to the same guy and his dog on my way back down. I wave to the same couple as yesterday on my way across the top. The shadowy promise of dawn breaking as I uncover all her broken pieces.ĭawn’s always been my favourite time of day with good reason. A simple Hereford and nothing more listed as her location. Training her pussy to take a decent girth if she has any sense at all. Sleeping, if she’s got any sense on a Sunday morning. I breathe in the view at the top and today my eyes are on the horizon, scanning the Herefordshire countryside. Maybe it’s the knowledge that our collision will be short which promises such a potent explosion. Maybe it’s the impermanence that feels so beautiful. The beautiful promise of one wild night to dwarf all others, and the bittersweet inevitability that we’re destined to go our separate ways when we’re done. This surreal sense of intimacy with a stranger is full of surprises. She saw, she feared, and still she wants. I feel an unfounded sense of acceptance as I power up the hill track and admire the rising sun. It’s listed in my notifications, ready to greet me when my alarm goes off.

The message is waiting for me in the morning, well ahead of schedule. Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

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