‘I’m a shit . . . I’m such a shit, Constance . . . You know I’m very fond of you, don’t you?’

Fond.

Still I smiled as you pressed my head to rest against your shoulder, stroked my hair.

‘But it shouldn’t have happened.’

I closed my eyes, nestled deeper. ‘We’ll tidy it up. No one will ever know, and we’ll never do it again.’

You kissed the top of my head. ‘You’re so adorable. I meant us . . . It should never have happened. You deserve better than me, than this.’

I didn’t move.

Didn’t punch away your hand, which continued to caress my hair. Didn’t speak. Breathe. Scream.

‘Constance? Say something.’

I slid from you. Stood. ‘But I . . . I’m happy with it like this. I didn’t mean . . . Please, I’m sorry. I know I talk about going out and things, but I don’t mind not doing . . . honestly, I don’t.’ I watched your head tilt back, your eyes covered with your palms. Uncertain what was happening beneath them. ‘And I know I say I’d like to stay over, but I wouldn’t . . . I mean, it’s not important. We don’t have to be like other couples, do we? However things need to be, I’m fine with it, Samuel. I . . . I don’t mind.’

You dropped your hands and sat forward. ‘Other couples? Constance, come on . . . We were just having fun.’

It’s embarrassing to think what I did next: collecting up wayward biros that littered the desk and returning them neatly to the pen holder. Desperate to make everything as it was before.

‘I mean . . . I’m not capable of more. Even if I wanted to be.’

‘You said it was a rare and wonderful thing . . . our connection.’

‘Connection? Did I? I don’t think I . . . There’s one fallen under the desk . . . There, by the wire . . . No. To your left . . . left . . . That’s it. Look, you’re a really great girl, but I think it’s done now. I mean, it had to end sometime, didn’t it? Everything comes to an end sometime. And that was definitely a memorable ending, don’t you think? We should just go back to how it was. We can still have our banter and things . . . be friends.’

Tell me, Doctor, when you were training, did you ever remove the heart of a donated body? Place it on the slab next to them? Dissect it? Rip it apart?

I stood still, mute, as the room spun around me. Until I heard myself say, in an unrecognizably weak voice, ‘Please don’t.’

‘Oh, come on now . . . Don’t be one of those, Constance. You’re so much better than that.’

I didn’t cry. Wouldn’t cry. I held the tears until they almost choked me.