Why didn’t this agitate me like it should have done? Instead, I became even calmer. A cool hand on my forehead. Suddenly, everything around me began to slide away, as though pulled back on an ebbing tide. The dining table, you, all the kitchen furniture. I was alone, the only thing remaining in all of infinite space.

Dawn of the next day. The pool of blood in the barn…I first saw the face reflected there.

—

“What’s wrong with your lips? Haven’t you done your makeup?”

I took my shoes off again and dragged my flustered wife, who’d already put on her coat, into the front room.

“Were you really going to go out looking like this?” The two of us were reflected in the dressing table mirror. “Do your makeup again.”

She gently shrugged off my hand, opened her compact and patted the powder puff over her face. The powder made her face somewhat blurry, covering it in motes. The rich coral lipstick she always used to wear, and without which her lips were ashen, went some way to alleviating her sickly pallor. I was reassured.

“We’re late. Come on, hurry up.”

I opened the front door and hurried her out, staring impatiently as she fumbled with her dark blue sneakers. They didn’t go with her black trench coat, but it couldn’t be helped. She had no smart shoes left, having thrown out anything made from leather.

As soon as the car engine started I switched on the radio to listen to the traffic bulletin, paying particular attention to any mention of issues near the Korean-Chinese restaurant that the boss had reserved. Once I’d made sure it wouldn’t be quicker to go by another route, I fastened my seat belt and released the handbrake. My wife spent a minute fussing with her coat, and finally managed to fasten her seat belt after a couple of failed attempts.

“I need this evening to go well. You know it’s the first time the boss has invited me to one of these dinners.”

We only just managed to get to the restaurant in time, and even then only because I’d gone flat out on the main road. The two-story building, fronted by a spacious car park, was clearly a sophisticated establishment.

The cold of late winter was stubbornly lingering, and my wife looked chilly as she stood in the car park dressed in only a thin spring coat. She hadn’t said a single word on the way here, but I convinced myself that this wouldn’t be a problem. There’s nothing wrong with keeping quiet; after all, hadn’t women traditionally been expected to be demure and restrained?