The devil and me.

A few home truths.

She was in the glass garden as she calls it, when he came to her. They chatted awhile, lay in the grass. I have something to show you, he said. In front of her eyes without so much as a screen, scenes from her life flashed. She watches in the scene she is dancing with her child round and round. The door opens, she hurries over to turn the music off.

It is too late and he is shouting. Her child jumps on to the sofa and hides under the cushions. He storms out slamming the door. She sees tears rolling down her own face. She wants to jump into the scene, take the child out.

Times gone though and it's all too late, much too late. 'Now watch this', he said. The same scene appears, but this time the door doesn't open. The scene ends as good scene's should, with a smile. 'How did you do that?', she asked.

'Things can be rewritten, why should your play be a tragedy?', he said. 'It wasn't always, just now and then, it's like that for most people', she said. 'I could give you all the best bits, all the smiles and hugs', he said. 'I have already lived it, there are no second chances', she said coldly.