He had never written the words.

Written in the style of a spider dying slowly across the page, nonetheless he knew that he’s never written the words. The words that she had shown him when they went back to the hotel room. The words in a ten year old diary, a book that he’d forgotten about, and that he’d thought lost or thrown years ago.

It didn’t make sense. Sure, all of the names were true but there was something that he couldn’t place that just didn’t seem right.

Em turned and mouthed something at him. No reply would be right. If he asked the matter it would be another tirade. If he didn’t – well, he’d get one anyway.


She put the tin of sweets on the dashboard of the hire car, from where it promptly slipped, spilling the sticky tablets and icing sugar across the floor of the passenger well.

“Slow down!” She reached for the hand brake.

“I wasn’t going…”

“You were! Stop driving like an idiot. Just because you..”

She stopped as the car went into a skid.

The side of a truck.


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