As is always the case, you wish for something and when it happens you then wish it never had.

This morning I wanted John gone, and now he is, I want him back. Or rather, to leave in some other way than he did... certainly not being pushed off in the direction of the high-street by Brian the Postboy.

I watched the two of them leave, John looking like he used to look besides me and Brian giving a flimsy little wave to the curtains he knew I'd be hiding behind watching. I stood there for a long time after they'd gone from view, just staring out at the drabness of the world and wondering how 300 million years of history had led to this.

To where and why Brian was wheeling John away (and with the spare wheelchair battery) I'm not quite sure. I suppose it was the realization of some sordid little sex session they'd cooked up over coffee, cigarettes and falling crab apples. Until the doorbell rang and John said it'd be Brian and that they were going out for the afternoon, I knew nothing off it. I surely wasn't forewarned so as I had no opportunity to screw their plans up. Not that I would have, at least not today. More than anything I'm just relieved to have John out the house for a bit, a few hours break from the insults, threats and bad atmosphere. I just wish he hadn't left with that corrupting little shitcock of a Postboy Brian, that's all. I've got a feeling it can only mean trouble...

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