Still in the drawer

I went back to the water this morning. Six-thirty, St Kilda. The bay was flat and grey. I told myself I was just checking the arm. Just one slow swim.

The arm did fine. That is the bit I can't stop chewing on.

Then I drove down the coast. Two clients on the cliff walk past the lighthouse. Phone stayed in the ute the whole time. I did not want to look at it. I did not want to go home and see the receipt still on the fridge.

Twelve days. I keep saying it is not a deadline. Just a date. But my chest knows. My chest has known for a week now.

I am scared of that envelope. I sat on the end of the bed and looked at the drawer and did not open it.

Swimming used to be my whole life. Now I sneak back to it before anyone is up. That part I am not ready to write down yet.