One of the things I threw away was the Old Man’s dart-board, which I had forgotten about. He had stored it in the airing-cupboard, under one of my toys. The Old Man often threw things away that he should have kept, and kept things that he should have thrown away.
On the way back to Suburbia Somnolenta, I stopped for a pee-break.
A man was standing beside a little red hatchback, with his daughter on his shoulder. She was probably born in the spring of 2010. Her dark hair covered her ears and fringed her face. Her mother was in the driver’s seat of the car. The little girl was eating something that, I suppose, her father had given her; then she gave a high-pitched cough — we are into the season for coughs and colds.
Indoors, as I was making my way out again, I saw a man with a carrycot in his left hand — there was a baby inside — while with his right hand he was holding the hand of a boy aged two or three. Where was the mother?
The little red hatchback, and the couple and their daughter, were much as they had been a few minutes earlier.
I passed the hatchback as I drove off, and noticed that it was now empty — the family must have gone indoors.
[Original posting 13 November 2012]