A heaviness, around the heart. A heaviness in breathing. I keep running through details of the story, trying to ‘be him’ and ‘see it through his eyes’. Is it a vengeful story? Not as far as I can tell, in my present state of awareness. Does it give a complex picture of my relationship with O? Yes. Very. It goes through the worst of both of us, and the best of him. It was necessary for me to write this story. I remember asking Raymond Carver if there was any line he drew round parts of his life, or people he’s been engaged with, across which he would not go. He thought for a moment, very carefully, and said, ‘It’s my job to write down life as I see it.’ Pause. ‘It’s a jungle out there.’ Patrick White’s savagery. His utter ruthlessness. Chekhov, the women in The Darling and The Butterfly: do people imagine that he made up these terrible characters, from thin air?