I smell like holiday.
There have been warm days but today is hot. We’re on the roof in our sun chairs.
I’m wearing the year’s first pair of shorts and am trying to get some colour on my spindly white legs. I open my eyes and the world is bleached out like a photograph taken in the seventies.
The floor of the roof is green and everything else is blue or white apart from K’s maroon bikini.
I let out the same rasp of panicked hopelessness I let out every week at about this time. She puts her magazine down and looks at me, silently. I make my noise again.
“What is it?”, she asks, knowing what it is. More