The weather is chilly, too cold to pad around the house barefoot. Dark evenings, cosy slippers and steaming cocoa beckon. I’ve put your slippers by the hall radiator so you can put them on straightaway, if your toes are frozen. I’m wearing mine already.
You’re working late again. Is it the icy roads or your new secretary that makes coming home a bore? You’ve discovered pink shirts, you’re wearing unaccustomed aftershave and texting at odd times. I know the signs. I was your secretary once.
Suddenly blue lights outside the door. There won’t be anyone to fill the slippers tonight.
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