2020-08-01 / 5:59 p.m.
I offered Becky a lift almost straight away after we first started working together. I could have driven various different routes, some of them much faster, but from the very beginning I enjoyed her company. A rare occurrence, especially so early in the morning. First we made small talk, then it was intermittent silence, less awkward as those initial weeks passed. We eventually became so used to sitting next to each other that we’d blurt out our thoughts before we even realised we’d formed the words in our mouths. Stuck in traffic I’d remind her that the fact that it rains is fascinating. “Isn’t it mad that water falls from the sky?”, I’d ask her almost every other day, sitting behind the same car as yesterday, stopped at the same red light as the day before. Raindrops running down the windscreen, the wipers struggling to keep up, squeaking loudly and out of time to the low music in the background. She told me to watch Groundhog Day, but I refused on the basis that I’d already gone almost three decades without having seen it, and what were three decades more?