Chapter 12

He clicks his fluffy, rainbow gel pen close and ties the knot around his leather-bound journal.

Deep breath. Count.

3.

2.

1.

Nothing better to start the day than with a refreshing, hot cup of tea and some journaling.

He decides, after yesterday, that his only task today is to bake an apple crumble pie.

Buy, bake, eat and sleep. Simple.

He makes a checklist, setting parameters around his anxious mind:

You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be great. He reassures himself.

He quickly fumbles a Valium into his mouth as the jangle of his car keys makes him feel a little queasy.

You’ll be fine, I promise. He tries his hardest to feign a smile.

Cap, sunglasses, mask, hoodie, keys. Check.

Checklist, check.

The neighbourhood kids cackle as he opens the front door.

They’re doing their own thing, don’t worry about them. He glances up quickly to identify his car.

Three dolls with ‘x’s sewn across their eyes bare their teeth at him.

It’s not real, it’s not real. Count.

3.

2.

1.

They turn around in unison and walk towards his neighbour’s house.

He scuttles as quickly as he can into the car, his hands uncontrollably shaking.

It’s okay. Apple crumble pie, apple crumble pie, apple crumble pie.

Count.

3.

2.

1.

The engine splutters to a start as his foot slams onto the bottom of the accelerator, before he corrects himself and releases it gently.

Everything is okay, everything is fine.