"You tell her what I made you promise. The same applies to her. I'm leaving." I was almost out the door when I thought about the picture and the note....Going back, I took it out of Bertha's hand.I didn't sleep much that night. I was up twice to look at the picture. First of course, I studied my wife's image. My thoughts ran the gamut, from anger, to sadness, and finally to love. Love, but if only the kid wasn't there. I could see love shining in her eyes for the baby she was holding. I could. It angered me. She was less in the mood for it every day that passed it seemed. "This is not unusual for couples after a couple of years," said the therapist. But our situation was a tad different. I know that she wants sex, just not with me. We sporadically talked about it. I always tried to get some information out of her on what she wanted in a lover in order to adjust myself. She figured it out and grew impatient with me on the subject. At last she told me that she wanted variation, that. After about 4 hours of running into things it was lunch time, and I was shattered, my hangover still lingering around like a bad smell. I ate lunch with Zack, Donald, Judy and Sarah. I nursed a cup of coffee in my hands, hoping to wash away the dregs of my alcohol induced headache. We were discussing the show, how they had high hopes for it and how they were all really enjoying the work so far. Soon, the conversation turned to a new actress who was turning up tomorrow. ‘So, Zack,’ Sarah said,. She really is only a girl. My eyes return to watching the landscape becoming sepia in the light of an almost vanished sun.She returns and hands me my tea, scalding in Styrofoam. Sitting again, eyeing me, she pulls the tab of her Diet Coke. An eruption of froth. Her sweet voice, "Shit!" Her lips kiss metal, stemming, swallowing fast. She looks at me over the edge of her can. The timeless beauty of her eyes. Then she smiles:"Got it! You're Arabella Rae." Guilty, as charged."You are, aren't you?"I.