Walk

"Are you convalescing dear?"
"Sort of, yes"
Hollowed out cheeks, half portion dinner requests and an inability to tolerate polite conversation gave it away to an inquisitive lakeland concierge who's seen it all.
But the chemicals is only the half of it, a broken spirit has it's own track marks.
Strange to have been in so much better health then, half kilometre walk past seagulls, swans and ice cream kiosks down at the waters edge, one stick or two? I don't remember.
Strange to feel better but be so much worse, I couldn't do that now, this is the meaning of degenerative, progressive.