There’s something missing. The sun conspires with the Sunday to create a kind of easy peace, like a nurse: attentive, but not smothering. But that’s not it. The people don’t shift eyes and bodies for territory like bus people do, instead they blog and chatter in gentle sussurus… but this is not the cause either. The details count for nothing when there has been some fundamental change in the atmosphere.

And then I realise: the silence. The engine has been switched off.

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