You are happy.
The sun is bright. Complicated silhouettes drift across the grass. You’re sat next to your partner, Alex, who is lying out, reading a book about bad practice in food manufacture called: Not On The Label.
You are sitting cross-legged on a tartan blanket. There are olives, artisan bread and red-pepper hummus in a Waitrose bag. You went to Waitrose because it seemed like a place that understood happiness.
You are in the shade. In the distance, a family are playing rounders. There is a tall lady walking a pointer. The sun is still on its way up and you have noticed the patch of shadow around you shrinking – the distinct blades of grass – the hyper-reality of late June.
You burn easily.
You fear cancer.
Taking the lid off the olives, you wonder whether to have a black one or a green one. You watch the line of shade shift.
What do you do?