Our eyes meet. She walks confidently across, taking my hand and leads me out, apparently not
noticing I’ve banged my knee on the table.

Limping after her, we arrive at her door, the handle coming away in her hand.

Eventually it opens, and I follow, hitting my head on the low doorframe.

No words are said as I stagger after her into the bedroom.

I fumble uselessly with her bra until she takes over before pushing me back on the bed. I miss and
fall on the floor.

Dragging myself up, I hear a noise.

“Oh God, my husband …”