WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT HERE

At twenty-three years old, I fell in love with a man who – given the right circumstances - could have been old enough to be my father.

I can’t remember the first time I saw his face. To be honest, I can’t even remember the colour of his eyes. Logic tells me they were brown, but I’d need to check pictures to be sure. What I do remember was the look they had: a predator in reach of his prey. As his eyes shifted over to me, I know now I should have run.

But I didn’t.

The first