She sucked in a lungful of the fresh, seafront air. The deep inhalation had been a means to an end; a way of counteracting the sadness that threatened to spill from her if she let it.I’m going to die…
It felt good to say that. She’d never acknowledged it out loud before.
It felt good to say that. She’d never acknowledged it out loud before.“I don’t know how long this thing had been inside my head,” she went on. “Who knows, maybe – maybe I’ve been dying since the day he met me. Now there’s irony for you. Imagine that – I could have been destined to break his heart before he’d even given it to me. And that means, he – he was always destined to lose. Again. But anyway—” She suddenly realised that the folds of skin beneath her eyes were wet; and Hilda’s were too. The cup of coffee the waiter
