Memory

I am on my best behaviour, grateful to him for rescuing me, mindful that we are meeting on Sunday - at my request - to discuss ending things for good. We climb into bed and lie stiffly beside one another. He turns to me, pulls me towards him and asks me to kiss him. I have my reservations but I still say 'yes' and the past and the horror melt away at the first touch of his lips. As his kisses deepen, he pulls me closer, holds me tighter, drags me back to the certain knowledge I have tried so hard to talk myself out of; he loves me. And I love him right back, for all the good it does either of us.