9.

“Leaving?” asked Anthony when I passed him on the front lawn. He was still talking to the milkman.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to the hospital.”

I waited a moment, imagining that Anthony would offer me a lift. But instead he gave me the thumbs-up.

“Good idea,” he said. “Listen, let me know how it works out.”

“I will,” I said irritably. “Thanks for all your help.”

Either he didn’t notice the sarcasm, or he decided to let it go.

 

 

The milkman’s float was parked in the early morning sunshine, now that the sun had risen over the rooftops. The milk was warming. You could smell it in the air and see it in the droplets of condensation on the sides of the glass bottles.

Judging by the blue and cloudless sky, it was going to be a beautiful day.