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James O’Neill

S

ix months before she died – it must have been just before she was diagnosed with the cancer – I saw her, but she didn’t see

me. I was in our living room. It was two or three in the afternoon. My girlfriend was working away at the time so it was just me in the flat. Rambling around as I always did when I was on my own. I do most of my day’s work in the morning. I work from home, copywriting. I usually have a burst of energy in the morning and get started at eight or halfpast and I go straight up to lunch. Then comes the afternoon and I don’t do anything much: half-hearted reading, maybe turn some music on, go to bed – ramble around, in other words. If my girlfriend’s not working away then we sometimes go out in the afternoon – just for a drink or something – before I get my second burst of energy in the evening. But that afternoon my girlfriend was working away. I was home alone. Her name was Hannah. She was literally a friend of a friend. About thirty-seven I thought when I first met her, but forty-two as I now ÉCLAT FICTION

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MAY 2012

Profile for Eclat Fiction

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

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