I didn't mean to slam the door behind me, but it was stiff and I was fumbling. I walked the first five minutes with tears tracking mascara down my cheeks, listening for my name, the sound of regret and running feet. Nothing. I paused and lit a cigarette with a shiver and a snivel, then walked on. I thought of walking home, leaving the cold to bite me and becoming a martyr for my cause. But my leaving was for the sake of sensible, responsible, other unpleasant ibles. So I got as far as the seafront and I hailed a taxi.
Love Lane, please. I strapped myself in. Love Lane, he repeated softly. Are you okay? I nodded, catching a glimpse of myself in his mirror. He turned the heating up, turned the country sad songs down, swung the car around and carried me home. And for his silence I was warmly, pathetically grateful.
Love Lane, please. I strapped myself in. Love Lane, he repeated softly. Are you okay? I nodded, catching a glimpse of myself in his mirror. He turned the heating up, turned the country sad songs down, swung the car around and carried me home. And for his silence I was warmly, pathetically grateful.
