“Her hand trembled slightly as she gently, slowly, quietly turned the key in the lock, but it wasn’t the thought of being caught, intruded upon that was bothering her. In fact it was the disorientating emotional numbness of the days since his death that she was seeking to dispel with whatever she found within; a feeling of plain old terror would at least be a feeling. There seemed nothing to make sense of, as if the final reel was missing. It was not a dramatic crescendo or a devastating dénouem...ent. Neither did it feel like a sudden tragedy or a never-expected blow. The feeling was far worse than of anticlimax; it was one of abortion. Someone had ripped the pages from the back, taped over the last half-hour. She hadn’t loved him for years, but she hadn’t hated him so much for a wee while either. She needed to feel something for him, one way or the other, but there was just a gap, a question mark. Perhaps in his flat there would be some trace of his presence that she could latch on to; she had long since exorcised it from her own.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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