Excerpt
An excerpt from the title chapter:
We could almost eat outside.
It's the almost that counts, and the use of the conditional. The suggestion seems absurd at first. It's only the beginning of March, and there's been nothing but rain, wind, and showers all week. And now this. Since this morning, the sun's been shining with a sort of dull intensity, a calm persistence. Lunch is ready, and the table's been laid. The window's slightly ajar, there's an audible hum from outside and the air feels fresh....
What matters is the moment in which you articulate that little phrase. We could almost...A perfect existence, the one lived in the conditional tense, like those childhood games of 'What if...' A world of make-believe pitted against life's certainties. The freshness of something only a hand's span away, something you almost experienced. A simple fantasy, involving the relocation of a domestic ritual. A tiny breeze of delirious wisdom which changes everything and nothing....
But then one of those days comes along when you catch a possibility as it passes, grasp the fragile instinct behind a hesititation, without tipping the balance. One of those days you could almost....