Empty

Although I haven't lived here since Christmas, I've had to pay the rent for three months.  That ended today.

It was, nonetheless, a poignant moment when I handed over the keys to Laeticia and scribbled my name on her screen.  

I'd taken three months to dismantle the life  I'd created by the cathedral and reinsert it all back into the moulin.  

There had been good memories; parties around the kitchen table with the windows open onto summer evenings, Alexa playing Springsteen on a loop, the children amassing in the living room,  Monday market morning coffees sold out of the side of an old Citroen van, gin and whisky evenings with Rousseaux, his bike parked up under the cathedral where we could keep an eye on it,, the sound of the organ on Sunday mornings, the screech and thud of the fairground until three in the morning,  the jackdaws in the plane trees.