Sid’s eyes dart around the room searching for something to rest upon but he is grateful for her apology, at least for her self-awareness. His eyes land on a bug on her shoulder crawling towards her neck.
Everything is capable of being loved, he says.
The lady smiles.
Well I guess that’s true.
Her voice is barely a whisper.
Sid thinks about the Syrian boy a lot. Even now, even all these years later. Lying on his tummy, arms by his side, palms upturned to the sky. He looks asleep in his red top.
I’ve been away a while. It’s time to go again.
Mum died on December 21, 2018. Six months later, to the day, my wife boarded a plane bound for Abu Dhabi.
Although they stood only five yards away from George, the pair of them were quite oblivious to his presence.
You use 40 percent less energy in the peloton. A life spent in the service of others.