I get off the train, follow the crowd into the underpass, people hustle and bustle around me, I imagine it hasn’t changed in probably 50 years the morning rush at Strathfield only the fashions have changed
I’m numb the world moves around me my thoughts are elsewhere, what have I done? will my world ever be the same?
a text from a friend enquiring if I’m ok has me again near tears, I explain, we’re working on it
yesterday I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother, I was angry, how could he trust me again, how could live with him looking over my shoulder all the time
today is another matter, we talked late into the night,
a supportive reply to my explanation,
open and honest? it should work.
no secrets? ok,
let’s try this