45
Paris breeze
London, May 1999
‘Post coitum omne animal triste est.’
They were lying in bed, both naked. Eleni had her back turned to him, his arm round her waist, their hands interlocked. She could feel his warm breath over her left shoulder as he kept shifting locks of her hair away from his face.
‘What?’ Nicolas asked.
‘It is Latin. It means ‘All animals are sad after intercourse.’
‘Oh, I thought that you were falling asleep, but now you are reciting proverbs in Latin.’
‘I am not reciting. I am telling you how I am feeling. You are not good at picking it up.’
‘Is this the beginning of an argument?’
‘If you want it to be …’
‘No, you want it to be!’
She turned abruptly to face him, moving his arm away. ‘Look, I am telling you that I am feeling sad. I always feel sad after s*
