THE TREE IN HER BACK GARDEN

The beguiling geometry of her face didn't hit him immediately. It took a while for the cunning collection of angles to coalesce in his mind and settle there. What first intrigued him was the reserve that, he wagered, hid a good heart. The reserve itself was hidden behind a generous sociability but the reserve wasn't hidden that well. You easily got past the cheeriness to find the guardedness but beyond that you'd discover the truth. Maybe he could have helped her.

Then there was her laugh. A single Ha! A spontaneous and genuine expulsion. The kind of thing you'd emit after getting away with a bank heist. A loud exclamation but warm and inclusive. He delighted in eliciting it. 'Ah life, such a wonderful ridiculous thing', the laugh seemed to say. To him at least.

Her body moved easy to the Universe. It wasn't out of step or closed in on itself and seeking the nearest exit as his was. It was outstretched. It could protect itself if required but it was willing to take on all comers. She belonged in the world and her hips, limbs, breasts and neck danced with it. It was hard to keep your eyes off her once you'd looked properly.

So, with all those things perceived, processed and ruminated upon with every breath, he found that he was truly stuck. He'd been drawn into a snare that didn't want to catch him. This beautiful trap was seeking other prey. Neater featured prey with a tidier psyche and a measure of conventional prestige. He didn't resent this, or at least knew that he shouldn't. He himself had caught quarry he wasn't pursuing in the past. It's the stupid way of things. At least she was fond of him. He had made her laugh. Perhaps she'd remember the laughter he'd caused her and shed a poignant tear of regret when she found him dangling like a bastard on a rope from the tree in her back garden.