‘I don’t know why I just said that. I mean, it’s true, but the exact way I said it, it feels… artificial? As though they weren’t really my w...rds at all, but ones that someone else picked for me? So strange…’ Robert swallowed half his wine at once, feeling selfconscious. Charlotte smiled without showing her teeth. ‘I’m sure it’s just my imagination,’ he said. ‘Certainly,’ Charlotte said, setting her glass down and moving to the bed. She was tall, with wide hips, small breasts, and long dark. My flesh prickled with goose pimples and I felt a fluttering in my chest. I wanted him to hold me again—to smooth my hair and speak in low tones. But he sat motionless beside me. I finished the little pastry and rose to find the washroom. Once there, I appraised my reflection. My hair had fallen from its chignon during the night and now framed my pallid face with strawberry curls. My eyes were still heavy with sleep, but even sleep could not extinguish the deep blue of their color. I. More

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