“We weren’t happy together but we lived in a state of easy, mild contentment. We shared everything except the stupid fucking secret hanging round your neck. I imagined tiny photographs: portraits in sepia of your parents, their faces partially obscured… — Jon Gresham Copy Share Image
“Later, you told me what your mother had said. How your father, the farmer, rose up slowly. You told me how your mother wailed… — Jon Gresham Copy Share Image
“We weren’t happy together but we lived in a state of easy, mild contentment. We shared everything except the stupid fucking secret hanging round… — Jon Gresham Copy Share Image
