Claudine

He wanted to forget her grey, straggly hair spread on the pillow, and remember instead the feel of the red buoyant mass of it suddenly hiding his face when he rode with Helen perched on the handlebar. We will crash, he had shouted. She had laughed, if I ever get hurt or sick, please don’t let me suffer. He had agreed as lovers do. He knew her so well, but had he read her eyes properly when he had pushed the syringe?