It’s midnight by the Heineken clock and I’m sitting at the base of the O’Connell monument, eating a McDonald’s, when I hear somebody cursing and muttering above me.
I look up from my phone to find that April has that hurt expression on her face. It’s an expression I’ve been seeing more and more, lately. She said something. A question? What did she say?
Snow had been cleared from the street and formed into a knee-high mountain range in the gutter. It was dirty and embedded with scraps of litter. I walked alongside the peaks and valleys, my backpack heavy with cans of beer.
I hammer on the front door with my fist and press the doorbell three times. Somebody is coming down the stairs. A dark male shape behind the nineteen-eighties frosted glass. A muttered curse and a key turning in the lock.
Earth. Have you heard of it? It’s a planet. There’s so much water here that it falls out of the sky and drenches my fur.
I had less patience than usual for Woodley’s twaddle. With hindsight, I can see that I was being a little unfair. He had agreed to meet me very late in the evening. Most people would not be so understanding of my foibles.