The only morning bus out of town is at seven-forty-five. The first bus back into town, at four-ten. The meeting: at twelve. One of the realities of living in this town with no personal vehicle.
Two story lines to play out over one weekend. One of the realities of this draft.
The library in Gaillac opens at 10. Until then, I’ll walk around, have coffee somewhere, jot things down in the copybook with (most of) the information about the characters.
From twelve till three-ish, I’ll discuss documentary films and try to get a fix on whether I do an apartment search in Gaillac or in this town.
Voilà for the overall predictable layout of the day.
Let the surprises begin.