She could sit here, hidden behind her needles and think vaguely, like a stroll around some neglected country maze, all turnings and brief hopes without any direction or triumph. If she looked, really looked and brought her mind to gaze upon anything, then she would just catch at a phrase or hear a voice before they simply disappeared. She was caught up in these weary farewells to the scaffolding of her previous life; each day something or someone slipped beyoond her and dissolved. That did feel the right word, dissolved. It was as if she was glancing into a well or cup and things let go of their substance and she could see them no more. Death she was sure would be like this. She would dissolve. How curious. The word involved a rearrangement of ‘love.’ The sleeve of the jumper was taking shape. Alfie would adore it.
But he was over there, still reading and smiling broadly , his vitality dozing benignly because today he had admitted himself to her world for this special afternoon. Health had got bored with her, an easy conquest and this male who somehow she had married and believed she had once loved, sat across from her eating a biscuit with his left hand and creamy crumbs on his lower lip. She recalled a kiss under a tree and felt the icy duty of his mouth once more with the unwelcome wetness that feigned zeal and spontaneity.