Four chairs

It was small and white, and as he took a couple of more paces forwards, as the rest of the people and the hall and the castle and the world and the universe disappeared into the darkness and the silence and he came closer and slowly closer to the chair, he saw that it had been made out of the bones of Darckense Zakalwe.

The snow is almost gone. Thick flakes drop onto swollen mud and disappear. It is damp and cold, and gets colder as the day progresses.

The engineer comes to look at the broken heat pump. After twenty minutes on the phone to the manufacturer he opens the unit, undoes a single screw, and it bursts into life. A loose connection, which on closer inspection, remains untraced.

I finish my spreadsheets. I watch the last episodes of Counterpart. Both, to be continued.