It’s been sitting there for days, seven at least. Every time I come here, I look at it.
Then I move some papers on top. Shuffle it out of the way. At the end of the day I return it to where it belongs.
I’ll get round to it tomorrow.
It’s a letter from the hospital. It tells me the date of my next neurology results appointment, when we find out whether the tumour is growing.
It reminds me I need to organise an MRI scan on my brain at least two weeks before.
I don’t want to do it.
When I do, it will start the countdown.