Having one of those maybe I've been talking out loud all day, days. Instead of thinking.
I do hope not. Because otherwise, when I was running late this morning I told the old dear who stopped to wish the bus driver a Very Happy Easter, to "get the fuck off the bus so we can move already'.
(I told Jude about this, she seemed shocked. Probably it's not always best to let our loved ones in on the inner working of our minds.)
The back of the-girl-in-front-of-me's head is perfect.
She has the hair I wish I had. Close cropped curls bob.
But it's been two hours now. And I think I can see the grease, seeping through from her scalp.
Close cropped curls getting heavier and darker. Stiff.
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