It’s been a rough few days, so Martin decided we could all use a break.
He set out dead early, and wouldn’t say where he was going. I tried to stop him, but you know what he’s like, and he did have his trusty crossbow, so I relented eventually.
I could barely sit still while he was gone, sick with worry, and I felt so relieved when he came back about lunch time. We packed up the cars and he told the lads to follow us.
I asked where we were going but he just tapped his nose and grinned like an idiot. My beautiful idiot. We drove for about an hour before arriving at a gorgeous beach. He’d spent the morning clearing it of infected, so that we could have a picnic together.
It was just what we needed. I felt so normal, so free. A couple of beers, a little paddle in the sea, kissing my husband without worrying. It was beautiful.
I can still feel the waves against my legs, as I lay here in the tent, snuggled up with Martin. He’s asleep now (he’s definitely earned it) and I won’t be far behind him.