joewrightedit

8

Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.

8

“Her bus came and she did not let go. They tightened their embrace and went on kissing while people edged past them in a queue. She was crying onto his cheek and her sorrow stretched her lips against his. She pulled away, squeezed his wrist and got on without a word and didn’t look back… and as the bus began to move he realised he should have gone with her, all the way to the hospital. He had thrown away minutes in her company. he began to run along Whitehall , hoping to catch up with her at the next stop. But her bus was far ahead, and soon disappearing towards Parliament Square.” — Ian McEwan, Atonement.