We are strangers who happen to have children together. You’ve made it clear.
And I’m not objecting to that, as we never really got past the flatmates stage,
regardless of the official piece of jewellery, so why pretend to be friends now
that it’s all over? And while I still have problems naming colours sometimes,
I’ve learned not to worry too much about it. It’s not like solitude gives a hoot
if my shirt matches my trousers.
hidden pilcrow 