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"I'm just popping out for the papers", he always used to say, "I won't be too long, so try to be strong", he'd laugh, "whilst I am away". Part of the ritual, the daily round of retirements humdrum existence, but comforting in its familiarity, and enfolding in its consistence. An aneurism they called it, like a blockage inside a drain, exacerbated by his running to try to escape from the rain. Some mornings now, I have to admit, I get an attack of the vapours, when I look at his chair, but then I think, he's just popped out for the papers.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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