In Sickness and in Welsh: Chapter 4 – Comfort Zone

Blair walked back to her cottage. The wind felt like it was biting her skin through the layers she’d put on. As much as she loved living here, the weather didn’t seem to love her. She loved living here so much she wouldn’t consider moving anywhere else. There was something about the land, almost like a magical quality that had seeped into her bones. Along with the cold.

Stepping back through the front door she paused as the wind was cut off as simply as being inside. It hadn’t felt very windy outside but the absence allowed her to feel almost instantly warmer. Blair shrugged out of the oversize purple coat and hung it up. Absentmindedly she undressed while standing by the door until she realised she was unbuttoning her pants. It wasn’t the time and she didn’t feel standing by the glass door was the place either.

The man she had seen on her walk confused her. It wasn’t that she’d never seen a man before but she’d never been so irrationally angry to see someone else on the beach like that. He looked so… happy. Was that really what was bothering her, someone else’s happiness? How petty would she be if it were really his happiness causing her problems. Could it have been that she didn’t expect to see anyone or that he was in her space?

The beach had been her calming place for so long and she rarely saw anyone out there. It made sense that other people used the beach like she did but she didn’t expect to see them. She didn’t expect to want them to disappear. Her thoughts had shocked even her.

“Tea. I need tea,” she muttered to herself as she moved through the room. The windows let the last of the light in as she filled up her kettle.

“I’m going to go meet this neighbour,” she said to herself as she pulled her favourite mug, “and I’m going to be nice. And I’m going to be neighbourly. And I’m going to-” going to what? Her brain had started down a path she didn’t want to think. Couldn’t think.

“He’s just a pretty face,” she turned to the cat who had heard her talking and thought there might be food to receive. “He’s just a pretty face…”

The kettle boiled.

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