Just the right amount of mess.

Tried a new toothpaste this morning. Was mintier than expected. It burned.

Estate agent’s coming Friday. Need to clean the flat. But not too much. It should look like it’s well-lived in. Used. But not by someone who’s given up.

Started with the bits you notice. Moved the shoes by the door. Flushed the toilet. Sprayed the taps. Ran the cloth along the kitchen counter.

Must get more butter. B&M had some of those microfibre cloths. Will get some of those too.

—

Got to town around noon. Put on my good coat, even though it’s warm. Hugh once said it looked good on me. Decided to go to Greggs. Passed a charity shop en route with a sign that said:

All books £1. Unless we like them.

The sausage roll was cold. Ate it outside by the bin. Should have stayed inside. A man in camouflage shorts was shouting at a pigeon.

Saw a new shop that only sold candles. Nothing else. Went in to have a look. One was called Dad’s Chair. It didn’t smell like anything I recognised.

I’d been in there a while and felt like I should buy something. Could mask the smell, but the cheapest ones were twenty quid.

They had a postcard rack by the door. That will do. Found one with a seal in sunglasses. Not sure who to send it to.

—

Hoovered the hallway. Put the butter in the fridge. Wondered if anyone’s ever not bought a flat because the skirting boards were dirty.

Instinctively went to put the pots in the dishwasher. Muscle memory forgot I sold it this morning. Should have cleaned everything first.

Opened the fridge again. Nothing had changed. A microwave lasagne and a bar of unbranded chocolate. It’s not bad with a bit of liquid.

Went to stand in the middle of the living room. Looked at the ceiling. It’s still not talking. Tried to see the place through someone else’s eyes. Not much left in here.

Neighbour’s fucking dog is barking again. It better shut up while the estate agent is here.

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