Looking back a decade
I was at the pinnacle of happiness, which is a precarious place to be. T was spending almost every night with me in the relative safety and comfort of my orphan’s abode. His parents were away in London for all of September, and he was free to come and go as he pleased.
Oh, how they despised me, his parents did! I was Eve with a bushel of apples, as far as they were concerned. Who knows? They were probably right. But they were away, and the mice were free to play. And play we did.
Nothing lasts forever, but at that time, the end was far enough away so as not to register at all. Pure joy was a feeling I was unaccustomed to, and sadly the novelty of it never had a chance to wear off.
