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If you want to sit back and relax, you can have the whole of pageram read to you by the author.

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I straightened and held up my left hand to shield myself from the unbearable light. When I opened my eyes, there was an enormous green-haloed purple-patch where Cat-woman’s house should have been.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve just blinded myself.”

“What are you doing?” said the purple patch.

I moved my right hand to my forehead to give me some more shade and to buy me some time. I’d been pissing about casting shadows, but she’d seen that for herself. My mouth set off without me.

“I try to photograph wildlife,” I said, “I think we get foxes.”

“Really? I’d like to see them.”

“OK……….I’ll let you know if I get any. See you later. Goodnight.”

“Yes, goodnight.”

I hurried out of her view. The word “Goodnight” stayed with me. It was a long time since a woman had said that to me, and it really did feel “good”. And, it was a small consolation for being blinded. I went inside, locked the back door and shut my eyes tightly in a futile attempt to restore my sight. I repeated this as I felt my way up the stairs, and I relived our brief conversation. Why had I said, “See you later”? It was five-past-eleven and I didn’t know her. How was I going to “see” her later? I couldn’t “see” anything. I shook my head and sat down in the chair at the window. What was I doing? More importantly, what could I be doing instead? The answer of “nothing” was reassuring, so I made myself less uncomfortable and began my wait. The sound of people enjoying themselves at The Seacourt Bridge was welcome company. Why would anybody go to the pub with friends when they could sit alone, half-blind in a bedroom with their toe on one switch and their finger on another? Danielle always said that Oxford was full of strange people. She was right.