The next morning I woke late and turned over to kiss her.
She had gone. The sheet was still warm but she had gone. I lay there, my growing agitation of mind beginning to fight with the gentle heaviness of my body. I had no idea what to do, so I did the obvious – got dressed and ran round the corner to our other hotel.
I walked to a little café on the river and ordered some coffee and croissants. No difficulties. No complications. Not even goodbye. So that’s the end of it then.
I felt as if I had blundered into someone else’s life by chance, discovered I wanted to stay, then blundered back into my own, without a clue, a hint, or a way of finishing the story.
Who was I last night? Who was she?