I’m still getting used to my new room on the upper floor, mostly because it’s so bare. But then that’s my own fault for not saving anything when the water came in. The little I’d managed to rescue after that had been personal things - stuff from the wedding, photos of Alex, etc.
Even though I’ve been communicating sporadically with Gel by letter, I haven’t broken it to her that all her clothes are ruined. Instead I’m hoping to be able to replace everything by the time she comes home. Except that’s not going so well, which is why I’m sat wrapped in yarn with my hands tied together.
I sigh, and walk next door, knocking on it with my head. ‘Lottieeeee,’ I whine. ‘I tried knitting again. It didn’t work.’