No flinch today

Slept. Real sleep. First time in a week.

I text Steve at nine. Thanks for yesterday mate. He says any time. We do not need to say more.

I open the book to the car park line. I read it back. I do not flinch. That never happens. Most days I read it and want to bin the whole thing.

I put the pen down.

The middle of the set. The middle of the book. The middle of my chest. All three are open right now. The bit with no punchline. The bit that is just me, standing there, hoping.

That is the scary bit. Not the jokes. The jokes are easy. The middle bit is the scary bit.

Steve saw it yesterday. The real me. Not the stage me. And he bought the next round anyway.

I think that is the whole day. Maybe the whole year.