For the first time, she feels frightened. Her heart hurts with scared feelings. She puts her hand to her chest, feels the thin cotton sticking to her skin. Even though she’s cold, her body is clammy with sweat. It comes to her then that she must leave. Right now, there’s not a moment to waste. She reaches for the suitcase on top of the wardrobe, dropping it on to the unmade bed next to the letters. She empties the wardrobe of her clothes, dumping them haphazardly on the bed, then pulls out drawer after drawer, their contents spilling, a snaking mass of legs and sleeves. Stuffing the clothes in, she shuts the case and carries it out into the hall. Then she goes back into the kitchen and finds her phone. It’s been days since she checked it, and the power is dead. She plugs it in and decides to shower quickly while waiting for the phone to come back to life.

In the bathroom, she turns the taps on, sets the temperature to high. When she steps under the shower, the water on her skin feels shocking. It scalds her flesh, reviving some spark of energy inside her. After days of wallowing in her depression, the skin on her body disgusts her. She scrubs vigorously, her nails clawing through her scalp as she shampoos her hair. She wants to get clean and away. She wants to wash these past few days and weeks from her body. She turns the water’s heat higher, needing to be cleansed to the bone. A plan forms in her head: she will call Jake and ask him to meet her, and then she will take only what she can carry and walk away. Later, they can return together for their furniture, her piano. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it’s best to leave it all behind – a scorched-earth policy – and start anew somewhere else.

The towel is rough on her skin. In the mirror, she sees her reflection – pink-skinned and puffy-eyed. She pulls on her underwear and then a loose-fitting cotton dress. Her hair drips on to the fabric as she steps into her shoes. She opens the door and there is Anton, right in front of her. The breath catches in her throat.

The door behind him is open to the flight of stairs he has just descended. Her suitcase lies at his feet and he looks at it now before bringing his eyes up to meet hers.

‘You’re leaving?’ he asks, his voice low. It makes the silence that surrounds them feel deeper, more profound. She realizes she cannot hear any sounds from outside: no birdsong, no kids in the park, no traffic humming from the streets beyond. Despite the recent heat from her shower, the skin over her neck and the backs of her arms prickles with goosebumps.