She just arrived. A peck. Not a kiss. But a peck on the lips at least. “You have drunk alcohol. You’ve drunk all the day.”
It’s not a question.
‘Ah, oui. Merci’ I respond. ‘C’est pas de..’ she walks away and I return to our bedroom/office, type these lines: start a response to her criticism and; well, let it slide into the sand pit of nonchalance, annoyance and just general being.
And now she’s sitting on the balcony. The sun is shining at 17:30: blue skies dotted with greyed out tinges to white billowing pillow like clouds.
And she is talking, to the other woman. Re-counting tales of woe of the day that was. Of interaction. fraction, distraction between herself and other members of her team. “Mais ecoute ..” – but listen.. and now, from back inside our closed bedroom/office domain, I cannot hear what she is saying but her voice is raised. `I do not think much about what she is saying. I think more about why she doesn’t, hasn’t, willn’t – a new word for will not/wishes not to, share it with me.