Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,23

luck! Keep me posted and bring him back the second you have any concerns.”

I was trying to take this all in as I walked out of the practice, grabbing the leash and collar she told me about. Apparently, I had a dog now and apparently, I was meant to run around with a sieve and . . . I cringed. I couldn’t even think about it. And twenty-four hours or so, what the hell was I meant to do to keep busy?

I felt itchy just thinking about all those hours stretching in front of me with nothing to do. What does one do without a phone? I felt so alone and disconnected from the world once more. As if someone had unplugged me from it.

CHAPTER 11

I stood on the street, feeling a deep sense of loss and aloneness in the pit of my stomach. I looked down at Satan’s Little Helper and sighed.

“I guess we’re stuck with each other, but only for a while.” I wagged my finger at him. “Don’t think this makes you my dog, regardless of what she says. Okay?” I waited. “Now would be a good time to bark so I know that you understand what I’m saying.”

Still nothing.

“Great, now you’re silent.” I turned away from the vet’s house and started walking up the street. I had no idea where I was going, or what I was going to do for the next day, but I supposed buying a sieve would be the first thing. I surveyed the street; you couldn’t get lost in this place, it seemed so small—well, I hoped so, because I didn’t have Google Maps with me, a thought that left me feeling even more uncomfortable.

At the end of the street, like all these small Karoo towns, a huge church steeple rose up and dominated the view. Small, pastel blue- and-yellow-painted houses with little verandas lined the streets. No one had fences here, or if they did, they were waist high at most, you could easily climb over them. The road was empty, apart for an old double cab that drove past me. It was ancient, rusty and the exhaust pipe spluttered. In the back, a boy sat and, on his lap, a sheep! A big, fluffy sheep! I reached into my pocket and scrabbled for my phone, this would make such a great Instagr—

I stopped scrabbling and stood still. I didn’t have Instagram. I couldn’t take a photo of this and share it with the world. I couldn’t shout it out to the universe that I had seen a boy sitting in the back of a double cab with a sheep. Anxiety bubbled up inside me and this desire to take a pic and post it made me want to scream out loud. I needed to share it with someone. Because if I didn’t tell someone—anyone—about it then it felt less real in some way. Almost as if I hadn’t seen it at all. Or that seeing it wasn’t important or interesting, until someone told me it was. I looked down; Satan’s Little Helper was looking up at me curiously, as if he was wondering why I’d stopped walking. I rolled my eyes at him and continued my stroll down this empty, lonely street. At least I would get some extra steps in today, #tenthousandstepsaday. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about this either. So what was the point?

It was so quiet here. Quiet like I’d never heard quiet before. Quiet in a bad way. I liked to feel like something was going on around me at all times, it kept me feeling a part of something. Here, I felt a part of nothing, other than silence. If I was disconnected from all those hundreds of thousands of people, did I even exist? Existential questions that I really wish I wasn’t thinking seemed to be bashing about in my brain, and I didn’t like it one little bit. They were on a par with questions about sounds of trees falling in the forest and all.

I finally found the general dealer, and because the shop was so small, I quickly located a sieve and some snack bars, the healthiest things in the shop, although I couldn’t use my calorie-tracking app to check. I walked up to the counter. An older woman with long hair and lines etched into her face looked up at me.

“Hi, you must be new here,” she said, as I placed the stuff on the counter.

I nodded