The morning after the night after the funeral, in which my mother and I had slept together, in both senses of the phrase, I woke up naked and alone. I yanked on a pair of jeans and stumbled, bleary-eyed out of the door and found Mum in the flat's tiny kitchen chatting with Hal, my flat-mate. She was perched on a kitchen stool with her attractive nylon-encased legs crossed. She was jiggling
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