‘Your English is poor,’ I tell him. ‘Your accent is atrocious’
My phone says it’s 7.50am, but the sky outside looks more like 4.15. Rain is striking the window in handfuls, like flung gravel. It has been raining all night, and it promises to rain all day, possibly for the rest of the month. I dress by the light of a reading lamp and close the bedroom door behind me.
“Hello?” says the cat from somewhere in the darkness below.