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Click hereShe went west with the wind,
apologetic but glad to be going,
weary of wet weather and bored with
lows and depressions and the
lack of new words for
old anguish, but loving the
buzz of the hub where the
deck of flights was dealt and the
duty-free where she bought a
big tube of the whiskey he liked and a
carton of the cigarettes he’d
unwisely eschewed—she
smoked six in a row and
light-headed found a bar where she had
a Gin and Tonic
exactly as he liked it.
The waves were perfect as they
lapped her toes and she
lapped up the hot stares of
dark men as they eyed her
darkening body in her
micro-bikini, while images were
crammed like microfiche ready
for a time when the erotic
might appeal to him again.
At sunset, cocktail at elbow,
guilt crept into her via the
sunburnt back of her neck and she
thumbed open her phone
startled at writing something herself:
“Hey babes, I hope you are well. I
really needed this time to myself and I
know you understand, so please
stay strong! I send you
sunny kisses xx.”
The launch sound of Send felt final,
as though she could see her text
arcing red into the night sky—to
find what? Perhaps it would be
deleted at the dinner table amidst laughter, her
replacement by his side? Or maybe he had
succumbed to that incipient despair she’d
fled from? What would she
do then? Pregnant with his words,
expecting but
unable to deliver?