David Nichollss

“He rests his head against the mirror and exhales. In the years he was with Emma he sometimes wondered idly what it would be like if she weren't around; not in a morbid way, just pragmatically, speculatively, because don't all lovers do this? Wonder how he would be without her? Now the answer is in the mirror. Loss has endowed him stupid and banal. Without her he is without merit or virtue or purpose a shabby, lonely, middle aged drunk, poisoned with regret and shame.”