Like boats anchored on an old seaport (or should I have said a typhoon shelter) , they are lined up . Symmetrically perfect as it could be . Good news parked. My In box .
I jump from one to the other captaining each, moment I am in it. Like Jack Sparrow , Captain Jack Sparrow.
He writes to tell me that my two proses have been accepted to be featured in this year's edition. Hard cover. Well bound . Expensive paper , matt finish. I hope they get the punctuations right. The mandatory donation does not strike you until the last paragraph.
"You are good , but not that good". Yet he didn't press the point, such a gentleman.
But then again that should not be an issue , because Mr J H Klausse, writes me to inform about the inheritance that my long lost uncle left me in a South African bank. And now that he is dead after his Iron bird crashed on to the jungles of Tazmania .
God bless his soul. But too bad mercury is aligning with the moon this year (after 82 years) , I am told.
Memories come back , of looking at her hand carefully cup the as she brushed the crumbs of the table , then clasping it in the palm till she discards them in to the bin.
I rinse my mind out of fantasies.
"are you sure you want to move the marked to trash?" This is the last chance to change my mind.
I confirm.
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