What if 

It was a day that had gone her way. Those rare days when it rained whilst she was indoors and the sun shone as she walked outside. Work was as Fridays should be, tying up a few loose ends, catching up with friends, no fires. As she washed warm water over her that night it, thinking of the blessings of the day, it began with just a thought. I wonder what he is up to. What a parasitic thought. An unplugging of a black hole. She felt all reason and logic escape her as she began to think the two most dangerously imaginative words. What if

Her heart filled with anger at his betrayal only to be replaced by mindless yearning for his return. Memories after memorises, bringing with them passion, puzzles, pain. 

She was not the everything he had promised her she was. His instragram showed pictures had been added. He has moved on. 

But what if? What if his heart was void and he was aimlessly filling it with selfies and snaps? What if he was working hard to make himself successful so he could prove to her he had changed? What if he spends sleepless nights missing her hold? What if. 

You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading your last one. – anon

Handing over 

Today I begin my handover period – a few weeks where my team show our successors the ropes before we move on with our own lives. (I work in an environment where people are elected into their position, so there’s an annual handover period).

I packed up my desk – all the postcards I had received full of encouragement and wisdom, books I had collected, ticket stubs and event brochures, photos, and my slippers. Memories I had forgotten about resurfaced and I felt my first all consuming sadness to be leaving this place. A place where I had learnt so much, grown so much.

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