Carol is already at the café. She is sitting at a table near the window. The table, and a bit of her skirt, are obscuring her knee.
Carol’s knee feels obscured. It feels like something in costume, something peeking out from behind a mask. It feels playful and indestructible.
Carol is drinking a cup of tea.
She sees me come in.
I don’t go and sit with her straight away. I go and buy a tea first and carry it over to the table.
You’re late, she says.
Hi, Carol, I say.
You’re three quarters of an hour late, she says.
Sorry, I say. I was flyering on my way.
Flyering for what? she says.
For Ian, I say. Ian is lost.
Oh, she says.
There is a long pause. I sip my tea. Carol sips her tea. I sip my tea again.
This is hard, I say. I don’t quite know how to say this, I say.
Say what? Carol says.
That I don’t think we should see each other anymore.