I join the parade of commuters as they make their way through the valley and up the hill right at golden hour. My first plan is to have fried eggs over white rice with some miso paste and seaweed. It does not go well with my second plan which is to dive into a suburban thriller about a dog walker who is trying to seduce a rich widower whose wife died under mysterious circumstances. “It does not end how you would think,” said my friend who lent me the book. I buy two eggs at the village shop and wonder what on earth she could possibly mean.
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