“My asymmetric dress was now far more asymmetric than it had been when I left, more creased and crumpled, too. My knickers were in my bag and one of the pink heels was decidedly wonky. But it had, all in all, been a very satisfactory experience. As I turned to push the door closed behind me my foot slipped across the doormat and I sprawled untidily into an attack of the splits. Hauling myself to my feet, I found that I had stepped onto an envelope, the resulting lack of friction being the cause ...of my skid. It was plain brown, no name or address, the sort of envelope pushed through unwary letterboxes by door-to-door double-glazing hitmen, or those selling unspecified insurance, although those missives were usually unsealed and addressed to The Householder. The absence of any identifying name made me wonder, so I slid a finger under the flap and tore it open. “You don’t deserve it.” That was all the sheet of paper said, the words written in large, curly letters, like the handwriting of a fifteen-year-old girl who has only recently stopped dotting her i’s with little love-hearts and forming the lower loops of g’s and y’s into spirals.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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