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potential in her lithe form and ebony hair, selling sex to an audience who would not distinguish good playing from greatness. ‘I guess that was the start. Of the rift.’ And, like a rip in silk, once started the rift grew. He no longer knew the woman who pouted glossy lips from CD covers. ‘Perhaps I never had… It was over anyway. Our marriage. Before the affair.’ Conducted so publicly, with so famous a conductor. ‘There it is,’ he said. ‘My sad story.’ He opened out his hands, as if he was opening himself out for her. She asked him further questions. He had been ready with his responses. It was hard for her to identify what exactly felt incomplete. * The evening after the film, they were dining with colleagues of his. ‘You don’t mind do you? Bit of a bore,’ he’d said. As they waited in the porch, she caught her distorted image in the glass panel. Her features were country-girl pleasant; her figure trim enough. Far from stunning. She had always been realistic about that. Her image fractured as the door swished open. ‘Heleyna,’ the hostess greeted her, as if Helen was too plain to remember. Helen found herself swept up in a rush of silks and scented air kissing. 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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