I could move there and buy a house outright. I could wake up in a yellow cottage, walk across the rough wooden floor to the front door, and take a mug of coffee out to the landwash. Sit on a rock and scan the ocean for whales, for mola, and have the fog bead up on my arms. The steam from the hot coffee on my face.

There would be so much more time for everything, for feeling, for writing.

***

I go to a staff picnic, and I realize that I’ve been confusing several of my coworkers names and roles. I see people standing next to each other who I thought were the same person, and I swear under my breath. There are multiple instances of this. There are five women who all look the same - same height, age, weight, clothing style, length and colour of hair. There are three men who, again, have similar outward appearances.