Not much chance of sleep now. Instead he would pick out patterns in the grey 

Artex until she was completely asleep, then slip out and away without waking her.

Of course leaving now would mean that he would never see her again. He wondered if 

she  would  mind,  and  presumed  she  would:  they  usually  did.  But  would  he  mind?  He  had 

managed  perfectly  well  without  her  for  four  years.  Until  last  night  he  had  been  under  the 

impression that she was called Anna, and yet at the party he hadn‘t been able to look away. 

Why had he not noticed her until now? He examined her face as she slept. 

She was pretty, but seemed annoyed by the fact. Her bottled-red hair was almost wilfully 

badly cut, alone in front of the mirror probably, or by Tilly whatsername, that loud, large girl 

she  shared  this  flat  with.  Her  skin  had  a  pallid  puffiness  that  spoke  of  too  much  time  in 

libraries or drinking pints in pubs, and her spectacles made her seem owlish and prim. Her 

chin was soft and a little plump, though perhaps that was just puppy-fat (or were “plump”and 

"puppy-fat" things you weren't meant to say now? in the same way that you couldn't tell her 

she had tremendous breasts, even if it was true, without her getting all offended).

 

Never mind that, back to her face. There was a slight greasy sheen on the tip of her small, 

neat  nose  and  a  spattering  of  tiny  red  spots  on  her  forehead,  but  these  aside  there  was  no 

denying that her face  –  well, her face was a wonder. With her eyes closed he found that he 

couldn't recall their exact colour, only that they were large and bright and humorous, like the 

two  creases  in  the  corners  of  her  wide  mouth,  deep  parentheses  that  deepened  when  she 

smiled, which seemed to be often. Smooth, pink mottled cheeks, pillows of flesh that looked 

as if they would be warm  to the touch. No lipstick but soft, raspberry-coloured lips that she 

kept tightly closed when she smiled as if she didn‘t want to show her teeth, which were a 

little large for her mouth, the front tooth slightly chipped, all of this giving the impression 

that she was holding something back, laughter or a clever remark or a fantastic secret joke.

If  he  left  now  he  would  probably  never  see  this  face  again,  except  perhaps  at  some 

terrible  reunion  in  ten  years‘  time.  She‘d  be  overweight  and  disappointed  and  would 

complain  about  him  sneaking  off  without  saying  goodbye.