She marched into the bookshop talking at the top of her voice ripping to shreds the calm that had been there before she arrived. She was saying that as far as she was concerned the woman had no sense of logic whatsoever. That she had just been through a divorce. With that man. You know the one. Yes that one. And she was no doubt suffering from depression or something. What's more her attitude was surreal. Senseless. And irrational.
But there was no one beside this woman talking at the top of her voice. She talked to the ceiling. She talked to some books. She moved a little forwards. And took a step backwards. Then she stopped to talk to the floor with her hands punctuating her thoughts.
Some years ago, she would have been led out of the shop and perhaps even admitted into a psychiatric hospital. Only she had something stuck in her ear and a wire leading into her bag.
