Sweet Nothings

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‘OK let’s agree a pact.  If I haven’t heard from him by this time next week, I’ll shelve it.  And in the meantime, I’m not allowed to mention him.’ 

But I am allowed to blog about him.  Unrelentingly.

My friend looks sceptical.

The next day I’m sat at reception, with a dusty orchid for company.  My phone flashes up with a new message.  It won’t be from him.

It’s from him.  My colleagues know something’s up; I’m smiling before midday.  I even offer to make them all tea.

That afternoon, I text my friend, letting her know he has been in touch, but that it probably doesn’t mean anything.  She sends back:

‘I’m saying nothing.’

That wasn’t part of the agreement.

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