I’m just a normal person, she said. When you get to like someone, you make them feel like they’re different from everyone else. You’re doing it with Nick, you did it with me once.

The sex itself was similar, but afterwards was different. Instead of feeling tranquil, I felt oddly defenceless, like an animal playing dead. It was as though Nick could reach through the soft cloud of my skin and take whatever was inside me, like my lungs or other internal organs, and I wouldn’t try to stop him.

I looked out at the garden, at the bird-feeder hanging off the birch tree.

I could feel tears coming out of my eyes, but they didn’t feel hot like real tears. They felt cool like little streams from a lake.

Watching the soap bubbles slide silently down the blades of the kitchen knives,

I couldn’t stop the tears so I just laughed self-effacingly instead, to show that I wasn’t invested in the crying.

The blood tasted thick, clotted and salty. I could feel it, vividly, running back down my throat.

You underestimate your own power so you don’t have to blame yourself for treating other people badly.

The crustaceans looked ancient, like mythological ruins. They batted their claws uselessly against the glass sides of the tank and stared at me with accusatory eyes.