There is a sense of melancholy about her. I watch as she runs her fingers through her hair, revealing the shaved side. I bet her mother had a fit, I t...ink to myself, remembering how my own mother cried, calling me a lesbian and lamenting how she’d never have grandchildren the first time I came home with a mohawk.The old bitch got one thing right, I thought ruefully as I scrape the chocolatey foam from the insides of the cup. Despite being married for fifteen years, I am no nearer providing. She was walking to the clearing near to the river. It was one of her favourite spots and was always deserted. She liked to imagine that no one else knew it was there.Just as she approached it she saw that the clearing was already occupied. She couldn’t quite make out who it was, so she carried on until she could make out who it was. She gasped. It was Guy. He was lying on the grass sleeping. He was only in his breeches. She realised her mouth was hanging open, so she closed it quickly and made. More

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