It’s a hard time breathing in my house; the hayfever is only half the culprit. On the surface everything looks ok – the house is spacious and light, the windows frame the gardens. Inside, however, the air is stagnant. Our financial demise sits in the corner, grinning maniacally; not saying a word or making a sound – just breathing our air, our precious, limited air.
Then he walked in – all glasses and arms. His joy is irrepressible – even in the gloom. His hands show struggles worse than ours but it doesn’t seem to have touched him.
He said, “my name isn’t traditionally spelled with an H – I’m the only person with my name”.
“Me too!” Said I.
The air grew lighter with a shared smile.