I was deep cleaning my flat while running a zombi apocalyptic simulation inside my head. As if… But what if… I had to leave in a rush or die instead?

Would a more adept person come in to take my place? In charge now of the range of crap I own. Rent free as well… Bastard!

Look at all this. When did I think I was going to write a novel! Anyway… Wouldn’t they like to find food up to date in the cupboards? Would they read the book ‘How To Write a Novel,’ and actually go through with it?

I know I would have taken all my IDs with me. I’d like to think that made sense. Leaving the new tenant knowing I was twat, but a clean one, at least.

‘What are you doing up there, Ariadna?!’

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