Lockdown Day 46: Thursday 7th May, 2020

  The ceasefire continued as Don and Frank exchanged limited conversation, if not phone numbers. The night drifted on its preordained march in a mellow haze of soon to be forgotten memories as the troops manned a futile bunker against the advancing dawn. Manic house banged into trance then faded to chill, a soothing tonic camouflage to shield the tribes in the trenches of the lost. Eventually the river of night slowed and the drink no longer flowed so free.

  Finally the music stopped.

  We sat unmoving for a while, cool heads clearing on a cold morning. As the smoke ghosted and the whisky slipped sweetly away, we headed for the familiar exit. Into the hall where sharp tendrils of the bright new day invaded the blackout and down perilous stairs to an awakening street. Outside a shrill sun rose, harsh counterpoint to the soothing womb of night. I inhaled deeply the cool, clear day as my eyes adjusted to the light. The world smelled of fear and fresh meat. It was going to be a blue symphony day. 

  “Wha’ doin’ ya di morrows?”

  “You mean today don’t you.  Nothing much. Earn a crust.”

  “Ya naa gaan work?” Don asked amused.

  “Sure am. Catch you later.”  

“Ya maad, bwai. Ya maad.”