Her summer was full of new romance, smiles, sweaty sex and safe daydreams of possibilities – all so timely. Fresh topsoil to help bury the scent and sounds of the other man, no sooner than their last conversation.

His summer was solitary. Alone with his heartache and a mind full of her with him, making his forty-two years, months, weeks, days dissolve into hours of teenage heartbreak. After an unbearable summer a last minute ticket to Africa was his last hope to escape his pathetic weakness and constant thoughts of her, thoughts of them, only to end in the worst possible way. Utterly alone on a continent in a hospital bed with only his careless mistakes to give him companionship, holding his hand along the way to the end a life he never wished to live.

“sometimes a woman’s love of being loved gets the better of her conscience, and though she is agonised at the thought of treating a man cruelly, she encourages him to love her while she doesn’t love him at all. Then when she sees him suffering, her remorse sets in and she does what she can do to repair the damage”

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