October 7, 2016:
Glum in the window. Hand on chin, room key clutched white-knuckled in the other, false wedding ring for safety. Furrows. Is she in the right place? Is she in the wrong place? Is she anywhere at all, outside her own head?
Walkway through the Domain, elevated, with handrails. Silver ferns and sapling kauri, "Lover's Walk", they call it. Alone 'cos she's moody in the room.
Picnic by a small cove, on the road, heading north, in contact long enough for a blowjob in a derelict shed and a photo of our two shadows on a farmer's gravel path. The shadows aren't touching.