.Alexandra.
“I’ve had a week of threes,” I said, wanting to seize the initiative. I felt empowered, full of energy; and I wanted to be at it … the labours of Heracles, that is.
He looked at me over a succession of objects: the coffee cup, poised next to his bemused lips; the newspaper, held in his free hand until I arrived and tapped its top; and the reading glasses sitting halfway down his nose. “Good morning,” he replied, beaming; then, chuckling to himself, he added, “Threes? Tell me about the threes.”
I calmed myself down, digging deep for the essence of what I wanted to say. “Each group of three has a purpose, a possibility of growth from one to two to three. Getting to three would be the end of that cycle … for the small ones.”
“There are big ones, too?” he asked.
“Yes – there…
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