The days run into each other, X tells me. I can’t keep track of them anymore. Is that normal? No, I say, it just happened, I don’t know how. That’s what I’ve been telling you, we need to get a grip, we need to work together. Don’t kid yourself, he says, you just want me to do all the work. Why do we still have that calendar? he asks, pointing at the wall. When did you last turn the page?


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