Say you were with me
Lisa lets herself out of her front door, painted a fashionable teal last year by Harry. She will go to Hampstead Heath. That’s where she has decided to do it.
Every time she puts her key in the lock, she notices his messy brushstrokes. Fine, straggly lines like hairs caught in the paint. She should have made him do a second coat but Lisa has never been good at authority. Harry wanted to paint it and Lisa doesn’t remember agreeing or disagreeing and suddenly he’d bought the paint and the brushes, even though he was only 17.
She’ll go to Hampstead Heath. That’s where she has decided to do it. She likes the view from the top but today she’ll head for the woods, for the privacy
Still. The door has immortalised a slice in time for her, when usually it runs through her fingers like sand. It’s only usually when she looks back
