Tuesday
Aislen closed her eyes. She wondered if he knew the trust that she gave him in doing so. Trust, and, if she was honest with herself, weakness. She couldn’t open herself to him whilst meeting his eyes. She knew that, in a way, he would understand. He used his hair for the same escape from eye contact when it was too much for him.
In her mind, she imagined that she was eighteen again, and they were back in those first moments in the river house. The original bedroom would have been in the same space, just about, she thought, upon reviewing the layout of the house. Yes. The window was more or less in the same place. The internal walls had been moved to make space for the bathroom and the walk-in robe, but… it was the same room, she realised with one of those brain-melting moments o
