She came.

I was running late, unwashed, pissed off. Irked by seeing Gareth. I share this therapy house with him and three other counsellors. He is the child. He smirks with news and gossip that, artfully, allows me to know that I am so beyond the pale he won't even bother imparting it to me. He is an unutterable shit but we forgive him everything. He is gay. Of course, I never know what he might know, or what I may have told him in my dreams so even passing him in the hall ruins my day.

And then R. came . She is feeling better. Today, anyway. And why? She has a new job. I felt mildly betrayed. Something to do with police cells and drugs and my mind wandered and only returned when, shifting deeper into her seat and opening her arms, she seemed to offer me her pale thin wrists and, sensing my renewed attention must have understood she had previously lost it. She withdrew from me, folded her arms and god knows what else she spoke of.

Gareth's probably right. Whatever it is, he's probably right.