This Should Be Written in the Present Tense

42

I wrote too much about that doorway. Where I stood with a picnic basket full of kitchen utensils. Where I looked out at Knud. There he was, walking down the middle of the road to the station with my tartan suitcase. I followed on behind him, the air was warm and mild.

He put the suitcase down on the platform, then turned and raised his hand in a wave. I raised mine too.

‘Thanks for your help. Best of luck,’ I shouted.

‘Write,’ he shouted back, running sideways towards the office, a customer was waiting inside. He kept waving, and then he disappeared through the door.

There was a rumble in the distance. The lilacs were in bloom. This should be written in the present tense. I didn’t write.