I went home. I had to. I had not seen Emma since Wednesday and she had filed at four in the morning and not been to bed since.
She was on the sofa in the academy hoodie and not much else. Hair tied up loose with strands escaped at her neck. Bare legs folded under her. Sky Sports News on with the sound off. She did not stand up when I came in.
She put her hand out and I sat down next to her and she put her head on my shoulder for ten seconds and breathed against my throat. Her hand was on the inside of my thigh. I had not seen her since Wednesday morning and I felt the gap of the two days then, in the way she pressed her face against my neck and stayed there.
"Five thousand words."
"I know."
She put her mouth on mine for ten seconds, slow, and then put her forehead against my forehead.
"I cried four times writing it. I cried twice editing it. I cried when I filed it. I have eight hundred and fifty thousand reads since the whistle."
"That's a lot."
