Member-only story
What Do You Do With the Time In Between?
The rain brought an early end to the walk with my puppy Nyx. It’s been raining for weeks in the UK. Two storms and an omnipresent wind. Punishment? Maybe.
We came home from the park with half an hour to spare before a meeting.
Usually, I’d jump in front of my laptop, check and email or two and the half-hour would fly by with sweet F-A to show for it.
A moment spent, unrecognisable to so many others.
But today, as I headed for the laptop, I passed a collection of Katherine Mansfield short stories that I had purposefully taken down from the shelf. I’m halfway through my own short story, and I wanted to freshen up on one of the best. Maybe I could even write a blog on it later.
As soon as I opened that book, I was transfixed. I start with the introduction that I read many years ago during my studies. I’m there, in a place of utter joy and happiness. I’m there with Katherine Mansfield in London and Paris at the turn of the last century. I’m there, and I haven’t even found my way to any of her stories yet. Bliss for half an hour; puppy on my lap and me leafing through the intro.
