He told me to meet him under the oak tree. Sit at one of the tables and wait. All the others were empty. I sat. I waited. How long did he expect me to wait? Inconsiderate: my time was also precious. Too often I’d waited. If the cafe had been open I might have waited longer. I wasn’t going to sit there like a dog waiting for my master to turn up. The oak tree looked like it was crying but perhaps it was reflecting my tears. I’d had enough. I was gone.
Lucky as “the tree fell and obliterated” the headlines read.