The bottle struck the lip of the glass more forcefully than he intended, a wedge came loose and fell to the floor.

“Oops, I didn’t mean that.”

She glared at him. Was it possible to project coldness and emotional bankruptcy at the same time? He’d already concluded she didn’t have any emotions left. Was coldness an emotion? Somewhere close to anger and a little left of disgust he guessed.

She leant down and the front of her dress billowed slightly. He couldn’t help looking. She was still an attractive woman. He remembered waiting close to the exit as she bought that bra. He also remembered taking it off her.

He put the bottle down before the first sip was poured and reached out for what was left of her glass and the fragment she’d gathered. She handed both over and went to sit down.

“I’ll get you another.”

A disembodied noise of acknowledgment escaped as she searched for the remote.

Her feet were tucked up under her and she was flicking through the channels by the time he returned. He handed her the new glass, half filled with red wine. She took it with the slightest of looks.

“I’m glad you came.”

She paused on a channel like a game show wheel coming to a stop. Each colored wedge emblazoned with the punishment he would suffer. He’d always thought she did this to spite him. She landed on a stock market report. His suspicions were confirmed.

He sat at the other end of the sofa and took tiny sips. The wine was a little sweet, the type she liked. They’d once taken a road trip down the east coast and found a winery tucked into a valley. The sun was deep when they’d crested a small rise and seen rows of vines lining the valley walls. They agreed to stop even if it meant not leaving for the night. They didn’t mind sleeping in the car.

They only thing they’d agreed on recently was her moving out.

The wine was cheap and the night was warm. They’d slept with the windows open under an old sleeping bag he’d had since university. They’d drunk too much wine and when they tried to make love it was awkward and uncomfortable. The wine was sweet then too.

When he woke the next morning his head hurt and he had to walk for at least a hundred meters before he felt confident enough to spit out the bad taste in his mouth.

He’d found a small stream and as he squatted beside it scooping up handfuls of fresh water a fish swam by. It looked like a leopard with a bright pink belly. He reached in and felt fins brush his palm. For a moment the fish rested unperturbed before slowly swimming on. It was his happiest memory from that trip.

She became bored with the TV and switched it off, she must have been bored with the wine too as she’d put it down untouched.

“Your place is small.” She finally said. She might not have meant the ‘your’ to be so emphatic but it sounded like an accusation.

“There’s only me. I haven’t seen you place. What’s it like?”

“Bigger.”

They were silent again. She was looking at the empty television screen; he was looking at her knees. She noticed his gaze and smoothed down her dress. To cover the newfound redness of her cheeks she reached for her glass.

“How’s work?” he asked.

“We’re not going to have this conversation.” She found another emotion, annoyance. The glass hit the coffee table spilling some of the contents. She stood and walked to the window.

It was night outside but he hadn’t pulled the curtains. The street lights were few and far between, as were the lights from neighbouring houses. There wasn’t much to look at but she stayed there for some time.

He grabbed a paper towel and mopped up her spill. When he sat back down she still had her back to him.

“I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know why I came.” She said to the street lights.

“I wanted to see you. I thought we could have a nice dinner.”

“I’ve moved on.”

“So have I.”

She turned around and gave him a disbelieving look. Nothing new there he thought.

When she did sit back down she planted her feet firmly on the pale brown carpet and tucked both hands under her thighs. She started biting her lower lip which meant one of two things. Either she was going to say something unpleasant for him or say something unpleasant for her.

She re-gathered her wine and brought it to her lips with both hands.

He could guess what was coming.

“We do need to talk.”

“I don’t think there’s any need. We...”

“I lied.” She blurted out.

Perhaps he couldn’t guess what was coming.

She took a deep breath. “I like you place.”

For an instant he kidded himself into believing that was the lie.

“It’s so like you, comfortable.” She continued. “I miss that feeling, of waking up to the sounds of you making such a clatter in the kitchen, of knowing exactly where the day would lead.”

“But that’s one of the reasons you said you’d had enough.”

“I was wrong.”

She reached out and put down the wine. He was prepared this time and turned away. When he looked up again she was meeting his gaze. The look in her eyes had changed.

She smiled slightly but her eyes were telling a different story. He had seen that look before but never thought he’d see it on her face, in her eyes.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have feelings. You were never that good at hiding them.”

Her hand sat on the sofa between them. The knuckles curled slightly like a cat ready to pounce.

It was his turn to stand up and go to the window. He watched as a car moved past. The front lights bathing the street before it. The shadow of his letterbox swung like a pendulum.

When he turned around she was clutching an empty wine glass. She noted the direction of her gaze and lifted the glass.

“Delicious. I think I’ve had it before”

“You have.”

“That’s part of what I miss.”

As far as he could see there were two ways this could go. He could embrace her like the past hadn’t happened. Set up an apartment again and fall right back into the same routines. There was no doubt he was a creature of comfort. He liked knowing where everything was and exactly what to expect. Surprises rattle him.

“I don’t like sweet wine.”

“Then you bought this for me?” She smiled.

“Do you remember that trip we took to the coast a few years back?”

“Of course. You hated it.”

“I liked the place.”

He thought he heard the glass in her hand break but slowly returned it to the coffee table unharmed. She stood up.

“You’re better than I thought.”

“At what?”

“Hiding your emotions.”

No, you just never knew me that well he thought.