Jaap’s feet are heavy, each step hitting the ground with too much force. He feels like there are many of him now, all the versions of himself he’d glimpsed earlier.
Only this time all have made the same decision and are walking with him in solidarity.
He’s walked this route so many times and yet it feels different, like it’s another world, a mock-up which has been put in place of the original just to fool him. Everything is familiar, the same houses huddling together on the canal side, the same trees with branches waving over the water.
Everything the same, but also different.
Up ahead is his houseboat, their houseboat, and the lights are on. The street lighting isn’t uniform, and he finds a patch of darkness where he can stand and look down on the boat. He stares into the living room for a few minutes, not seeing her. Thunder rumbles and the first delicate drops of rain quickly turn into something heavier. He’s soaked through in half a minute. He doesn’t feel it.
Then she appears, walking from the bedroom towards the kitchen area. Rain cries down the glass, rippling his view of her.
Rain hisses on the street, hisses round his feet.
Or maybe the hissing’s in his ears.
He’s not sure.
He can’t tell any more.