Charlotte
Got it!
Finger and thumbnails gripping onto the corners of a box, it shifts; not by much, but it moves, just enough for me to get a proper hold. And now as I pull, it eases towards me.
Result!
One cardboard box. Contents undetermined.
And with something to haul myself up against, I can - at last - stand... The box, stout as it is, buckles under me, but nonetheless, I finish the manoeuvre upright.
What's inside?
Old drinks bottles... whiskey, vodka, gin, beer...
A drink...
Oh, God... For a drink...
...
...
Michael... peeling foil from the bottle, prising off the wire cage and popping the cork on a bottle of cava. His blue eyes... his sunlit hair. And his smile...
Oh, God... His smile...
My Golden Lover.
My husband.
...
My Master, his dark eyes full of the promise
