She, with the ultimate aim of becoming a writer, went to work for a small publishing company in New York. I, on the other hand, decided to spend, or s...me would say waste, a year traveling the world. She was hoping to find her sense of perspective while I was hoping to lose mine. Ironically, in no small measure we both achieved what the other was seeking. Having written a novel and two volumes of short stories, none of which had been favorably received by any of the publishers she had submitted. The stream dried and he washed his hands as the first glimmer of arousal spiked. He returned to the bedroom and, naked, leaned against the jamb. He studied her for a few moments before she realised he was there. Her eyes were closed, she looked so peaceful. ‘What are you doing you weirdo?’ she smiled at him, comfortable in their casual, affectionate insults. It was just their way. ‘Just looking.’ He stood there, leaning against the wooden frame, arms folded, ankles crossed and with the toes of. More

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