We slept in this morning and she had to get ready in a hurry. No time for her usual attention to detail. And she ran out the door, slamming it behind her, leaving her keys swinging and jangling. I stayed in bed until I heard the downstairs door shut, then peeked through the blinds. And as soon as she was out of sight, I went for the keys.
She never tried to make a secret of the box or the fact it was locked, or even where she kept it. But as I said at the time, "if you've nothing to hide... Why hide it?" It's one of those wee red cash box things, and she keeps it in a drawer by the bed under some pictures and books. Every key she has is on the same keyring, it took me a while to
find the right one.
I don't know, I suppose I've had my doubts for a while. There's been hushed phonecalls virtually every night. Her friends stop talking when I come into the room and they look at each other. I don't know, it's just a feeling. Anyway, I eventually found the key and it fitted perfectly. I put the box on top of the bed and opened it up...
There were nice pictures of friends and exes. Letters, postcards, doodles... Nothing bad. And then I found some sort of sex diary, and went to the latest entry. It explicitly detailed a recent adventure up the park with a boy she said she'd forgotten about. And it got worse as it went on. The dates never made sense. There were people I'd never even heard of.
Eventually, I had to stop reading it cause I started to feel sick. So I put everything back the way I found it, shut the drawer, and phoned you. See, I don't know what to do. I keep having fantasies about leaving her dictaphone under the pillow. Or following her when she goes to work. I've been lying about where I'm going, just in case I can bump into her.
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