There was nothing left to say. We were sitting opposite one another, but we were no longer able to even look at each other. I was stirring my coffee, even though I did not put any sugar in it, and wondering if I should fix it; not could I fix it. The thing was, I was fairly sure that nothing was going to fix this. The words were still hanging in the air over her head;

“I’m sorry, Paul, it just happened, and once it did I’ll be honest I wanted it to happen again.”

Now, I am not trying to be overly dramatic, but once my lover had told me that not only was being unfaithful to me ‘just one of those things’, but also that this momentary lapse of reason did not lead to feelings of guilt and shame, rather a desire to do it again, I did rather feel as though there was an end in sight vis à vis our relationship. I didn’t want to fix it now; in fact I just wanted to burn down the house.

She stood up and started checking her pockets; she was leaving, and I was starting to feel the anger rising;

“You’re going to him, right?”