It’s Sunday and we had pulled pork and coleslaw with the family. It had been a long time since I’d had beer with lunch, having opted most of the time for wine. Sun all around. It was good and we felt it that way. Clemence has left and Barbora won’t come back. I’ve been thinking about her lately, her smooth strong temper, the expression in her eyes when she wanted us to make love, the terrible blondness of her yellow hair entwined through my fingers. The first times, in the amber light of my bedroom, I got flashbacks of Ilse and had to avoid saying her name. Any way, Clemence will be back in a week or ten days, I am intrigued by that flash of madness that crosses her green eyes for a second or two when we speak. I can almost guess how she’ll be, her moves, her hair, her parting lips… but I can never be sure. I will have to wait and see.