I can barely make out the old oak through the rain. An hour ago the air was heavy with hail and in a few minutes the sun may be shining, it's been that way all day since I started looking out at the old oak. It grows beside the tall boundary fence that stops the dogs getting into the vegetable garden, I remember the summer we built that fence, with the sun against out backs and freshly made lemonade in tall glasses when we took our breaks beneath that oak tree. It was a happier time. The room behind me is dark, so much time has passed since I first sat to look out the window. Now it's time I moved again, the rain is letting up and it will not seem so strange that I would go out in the brief sun break. I doubt they will even notice the rope in my hand.