The socks my grandmother had given me were painfully tight around my leg – the ribbing felt like it was bruising me – and the foot part was too big, leaving a pocket of cold air around my toes. How could men wear socks like this? They made me think of my dad, of just how far away he was. All the way away in Germany, looking after Opa who was really sick. He had been there for over a month. Usually I went with him to visit Opa, at least once a year. Sometimes Mum came, sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes she was too ‘unwell’. Code for too damn drunk.

I missed Opa nearly all the time. Opa was the best. The best in the world. Oma had died before I was born so Opa had been the only grandparent I had. Until now.

I should have gone with Dad. What if this had been my last chance to see Opa? I should have gone at least for these holidays. Oh my god, I should have gone.

Impossible.

Impossible. Everything was impossible. It was all such a mess.

I unplugged my phone, turned up the brightness, and held it on the pillow next to my head. Tried to slow my breathing.

I didn’t mean to sleep. I didn’t mean to, but the next thing I knew, I was made of woven grass and I was unravelling and being carried off by the wind, piece by piece. It was so important that I reweave myself, but I couldn’t do it as quickly as the wind was unweaving me . . .

Until something woke me – a loud thud, a light scratching. I opened my eyes to the first touches of grey beginning to creep through the room. I was curled up tight against the cold; my body was a stiff and sore apostrophe.

‘Shit,’ I cried, and sat up. I checked the time on my phone. ‘Shit!’ The first bus would be arriving any minute. I threw back the covers and the cold hit me like a wall. I ran in my tube-socks to the back door, threw it open, and launched myself outside into the whipping air.

I had no time to take in the landscape as I sprinted out to the road just in time to see the back of the bus disappearing down the highway towards the city. I stood leaning over, hands on my knees and panting as I watched it go and wondered what on earth I would have done anyway – leap on board in my socks and leave all my things behind?

I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on breathing out and in. New plan. New plan. The next bus wasn’t until late morning, but I could still pack up now and leave. I could walk away down the road. If I was quick, I could be gone before my grandma and grandpa were even up, and I could try to catch the next bus from further along. That’s what I would do. I stood up straight and opened my eyes.