Written for Stense in the style of Virginia Woolf, on 14th October, 1990.
Who would have thought that there would not have been enough spoons to go around? Christopher said that it did not matter, that everybody had coped without, but the embarrassment of it all.
It made her think of the time when Emily had lost her glove in Brighton and the young gentleman had returned it. She showed her ticket to the inspector. Such nauseating charity; of course it mattered, everybody would be talking about it, but never to her face, for weeks. The train passed into the cutting. How could she face them?
Opening the door, she threw herself into the path of the oncoming locomotive and was killed instantly.