One Saturday morning
I awoke wildly early–an
effect of drinking Muscadet the night before - and I collected the
college newspapers from the post box. I wasn’t so fussed on the
but I was fussed on The
with the quick crossword. I sat in the common room on the ground
floor, enjoying the late autumn sun streaming through the windows and
opened the Review section. Who should walk in but Leo? The Universe
was delivering! He looked alluring, dishevelled from getting out of
bed, or so my feverish imagination told me.
“What you up to
this morning?” I asked.
“I don’t know
what to do with myself, I woke early. I can’t meditate any longer.”
He flopped himself onto the sofa and there was Lilly following him
through the door.
“I thought the
point of meditation was to get you at peace with yourself.”
“It doesn’t cure
“Stroke the cat,
it might help.” Lilly had jumped onto his lap. “Do you use a