”“Oooh you great lout, pull yourself together. She looks at me disgustedly and raising her voice she says, “you’re pathetic, coming in snivell...ng like a baby just because some old bag has kicked the bucket. Jesus you didn’t cry this much when my dad died.”“I know, I know and I’m sorry.” I say, wiping away some of the tears that will not stop flowing.“Well I’m not staying here to listen to you blubber all night.”Noisily she pushes her chair back and leaves me sitting alone with my inexplicable. As far as I could see, only one or two distant people were there. I rubbed my aching ankles and burning shins. I was short of breath. Fiore was right, I thought: work within your limits.All right, I conceded, within my limits. I accepted it, but ached knowing it was not good enough. My limit at that point was my body. My limit was two months. My limit was time. My limit was Martha. I could do nothing about any of it. My body told me what would happen if I pushed too far, too hard. Something in. More

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