‘You’re not married but you won’t sleep with me.’
‘You are married.’
‘That’s my problem.’
‘True…’
‘Well then…’

‘I’ve done it before and it became my problem.’
‘What happened?’
‘I fell in love.’

It was a long time ago. It feels like another life until I remember it was my life, like a letter you turn up in your own handwriting, hardly believing what it says.

I loved a woman who was married. She loved me too, and if there had been less love or less marriage I might have escaped. Perhaps no one really does escape.

She wanted me because I was a pool where she drank. I wanted her because she was a lover and a mother all mixed up into one. I wanted her because she was as beautiful as a warm afternoon with the sun on the rocks.

The damage done was colossal.

‘You lost her?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Have you got over it?’
‘It was a love affair not an assault course.’
‘Love is an assault course.’
‘Some wounds never heal.’

‘I’m sorry.’