Everyone's moving on without me, into a world I don't understand.

Lover? I don't know. I don't know if she loves me. I don't know if I love her. All I can say is, she's the one I think about. All the time. She's the voice I want to hear. She's the face I hope to see.

Hi." "Hi." I shrug, as though to say "Whatever." In my peripheral vision I can see Magnus exhale. He looks a teeny bit nervous. "So." "So." I can play this game too. "Poppy." "Poppy. I mean, Magnus." I scowl. He caught me out.

There's genuine pain in Eric's eyes. And I feel a stab of guilt. But you can't stay with people because of guilt.

For years now I've kind of operated under an informal shopping cycle. A bit like a farmer's crop rotation system. Except, instead of wheat, maize, barley, and fallow, mine pretty much goes clothes, makeup shoes, and clothes (I don't bother with fallow). Shopping is actually very similar to farming a field. You can't keep buying the same thing, you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself.

If your life's at a juncture and you need to think about things, there's nowhere better than home. However old you are.

Whoever it was, whether I knew them or not, if I could help in some way, I would. I mean, if you can help, you have to help. Don't you think? - Poppy Wyatt