the cat jumped up onto the lap sand purred, held it's head out to be scratched, lay down on her back. Pet the bony head and stroke the long tawny sides.
Read the news on the tablet, the British have decided for indecision, they miscalculated, they imagined, they view the same facts differently.
Sorry for half the populace, give or take a few percent.
The morning shower taken, leave the house to go to the car, the tiny black car.
It has been raining, and the radio antenna does not work when it is wet. Ugly crackling, only the most asinine pop radio station is to be heard. Idiots joking to each other, shouting over the ether.
But the car starts well, and runs, the tiny diesel motor grumbling away to itself. Steer it through the dark town, take the tunnel under the hill and then follow the traffic onto the country road. A German federal road, a Bundesstraße.
There are big trucks here, driving slowly.
Follow.
There will be so little time gained by moving faster.
The first person to say good morning today is the electrician, at work.
At six thirty.
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