Write four lines of prose about: the split.
Inspired by the migraine currently trying to split my head in two. Which is also, aggravatingly, going to keep me from catching up on your comments like I had planned to do tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
This morning we picked up a couple more loads of wood chips for spreading around our strawberry plants, then spent most of the afternoon transplanting onions. Going to be doing more of that tomorrow morning, with help from our farmer friends in Cawston.
Looking forward to seeing them again, getting their help, and for one of them to meet Max for the first time.
The silence in the room was not a pleasant one. Much was said through sharp gestures and hard stares, more than had ever been expressed with words. An agreement needed to be reached, and eventually it would... but there was no going back after a night like that one.
And sitting patiently in the middle of the room, the source of all that tension, the take from the bank robbery waited to see which man would go home with the largest cut.