End of the contract. I take the quiet option: dinner with the boys in the hills.
Meal's over, time for a bath.
I let the past 5 weeks wash over me, through me and settle deeper into me.
I stop the next 5 forevers from worrying me.
It's easy. In my bathtub under the stars.
My toes, black against the city lights, ballerina feet long gone, but still mine.
My fingers, already prune-like. A ring the only indication of a new person in my life.
I miss him, the man so much further removed from me than the twelve hour flight. The man I may or may not see again.
But it's ok. In my bathtub under the stars.
I consider the thousands of lessons learnt.
Shoulders tighter but mind looser.
So much more still to discover on this course with no graduation date.
The morepork pipes up and I look at the Southern Cross.
Oh yes, I'm in New Zealand. In my bathtub under the stars.
The water's cold.
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