The house is a desolate waste land. There are still dirty pots from breakfast and pools of milk festering on the kitchen table. I have not opened any of the blinds. I have not even thought about meals in any coherent way. I have merely shoved whatever fell out of the cupboard into my mouth and hoped that it was edible. I am reading. I am reading in that way that is just thrilling. I absolutely cannot wait to find out what happens next. I keep thinking: ‘I’ll go and have a pee in a

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