She steps away from the parapet and trips. I reach out for her involuntarily but she flinches from my touch and balances herself. She raises her glass to eye-level and checks its contents, some of the drink spilt when she stumbled. For the first time since we’ve been talking, I realize that Comma might be drunk. How many drinks has she had?

‘You have to let people know you will not be pushed around, even if it involves telling your boss,’ Comma takes another sip and smiles at me.

‘But since I am your boss,’ she continues, ‘mere telling me won’t help you. If you want me to stop killing your story ideas and stop pushing you around, you need to do your work and stand up for yourself. Be prepared though that it won’t be easy—going from doormat to daring. Standing up to anyone is never easy. Often it’s much easier just going along with whatever is happening around you. Anyway, how’s family life? How’s the marriage, the husband? Have I asked you that already?’ she continues, staring at me.

‘Fine thank you,’ I say.

I have no idea what game Comma is playing here. What’s with the unsolicited advice and the sudden interest in my marriage?

‘You know, all that you wrote in your article—about what makes a marriage,’ she says and takes another sip from her drink, it must be a big drink, ‘it all sounded a bit naïve—almost as if you wished those things were true while they really are false.’

She seems to expect some sort of a response from me.

‘We got much positive reader feedback,’ I venture not really sure what she wants to hear.

Why did she send that congratulatory text message if she found my article naïve?

‘Hmm, yes, the readers loved your article. But do you really believe all marriages are made of compatibility, trust, blah, blah and all the glorious things you wrote about?’ Comma asks.

She has the strangest expression on her face.

‘Yes—yes, I do believe marriages are made of those things—I wouldn’t write about them if I didn’t believe in them,’ I reply.

‘Perhaps—but your list, it’s not true for everyone. You can’t generalize because marriage is not like that for everyone. Take my mother for instance. She was a good woman. She had a love marriage but my father left her—for another woman. Left me too—I was nine. He just walked out one day. No remorse, no second thoughts. He apologized profusely, he was very polite, he even cried because he was hurting my mother—he was an artiste you know, sensitive. But he said he was helpless about who he fell in love with,’ Comma says.

She looks out into the darkness.