I'm not in a great state at the moment. I may have made a mistake by going back to my home, to my house. I don't know what I expected but whatever it was what I actually experienced left me cold and feeling alone and isolated. The road where I used to live, that was painful to say, is quiet and as such I knew that if I spent any time loitering and watching then I would most likely be the subject of too much attention from the curtain twitchers. I paused opposite my front door and looked in through the window into my front room. Who was the man? Who was the man hugging and kissing my wife? I stayed, still and quiet and staring at the happy scene in what I still thought of as my front room. I heard a noise by the pub and noticed that a couple of bald, agitated thugs were taking a firm interest in my presence. I wrapped my shemag tighter around my face and left, still very conscious of the stares that followed me.
I'm back at Patrick's now and still the images run through my mind. I know that I shouldn't, but, I suspect that at some point in the near future I will endeavour to get in touch with Emma.
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