Saturday, April 24
The lump in my chest is growing; it's tender, it moves underneath my fingers, beneath slip dress, shirt and blouse, evading my fingers.
The smell of my own skin when I haven't showered in a while is both comforting and saddening.
I'm moving into a fifth floor flat with no lift and no balcony; I think I'm going to have to stop smoking. And I will have to give you my new address.