Free LOVE'S GHOST (a romance) by T. S. Ellis Page A

hadn't seen before. It must be new. Did he pick it out himself? It was dark brown. He never used to buy brown, hated the colour. I didn't realise how strange it would be to see him in a piece of clothing that I hadn't seen in his wardrobe. Though we hadn't lived together for six months and counting, and he had every right to buy new clothes, it was odd to see this new jacket.
    I don't how long I kept returning to look at him, despite the fact that I could only see his back. But my fascination lasted at least two or three minutes. They were deep in conversation. I wondered what they were talking about. Generally men talk about women and sport when they get together. There are other variations, but eventually the conversation winds its way back to those subjects. It was odd — I didn't want to know what they were talking about, but at the same time, I did. I found myself trying to block out the other sounds in the café, even though they were too far away for me to hear.
    I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave.
    I stood up as discreetly as I could, turning to face the wall. If Russell’s friend had noticed me get to my feet, I didn't want him to see my face, in case he recognised it from a picture Russell might have shown him.
    I put my raincoat back on and planned the quickest route out, one that would allow me to stay as close to the wall as possible.  
    I started walking.
    A couple of children were running around and nearly bashed into my legs. One of them, couldn't have been more than three years old, took a shine to me and grabbed onto my leg. Her mother called her over and after a couple of seconds she let go.
    "Excuse me, madamoiselle."  
    It was another voice. Not the mother's.
    "Your coffee."
    It was the waitress. But I didn't want to stop and explain. I quickened my step, so I was out of the café before she called to me a second time, even louder.
    I didn't look back. I kept walking as fast as I could, soon losing myself in the crowd walking along the river. Shoppers taking a break for lunch, others just ambling nowhere on a Sunday afternoon walk.
    I mustn't cry, I told myself. My breath shortened and became staccato, like a violinist attacking a particularly uptempo part of The Rites Of Spring . I laid a hand on my chest, a pathetic attempt at trying to calm my breathing.
    People crossed my path, but I couldn't stop. I took little stuttering step to go round them. I didn't mind slowing down, but I couldn't stop. Not until I was far enough away from the restaurant. How far that was I didn't know. I daren't look back, I daren't even look up. I kept my head down and tried to avoid stumbling on any uneven paving.
    "Fay?"
    The voice was close.
    "Fay?"
    I had to look up. It was Carl. Reluctantly, I stopped.
    "Where are you going?" he asked.
    "I…" I found myself pointing back towards the café, gesticulating in its direction over my shoulder, but no words came out to explain my pointing. Then I found my voice. "I can't do lunch today after all."
    "Oh, that's a shame. Why not? What's happened."
    I could have invented some excuse. But I was never very good at lying. So I told the truth. "My ex was at another table in the café."
    "Oh, I'm sorry. That must have been a shock."
    "Yes, it was." I was a little embarrassed that I'd told him. I expected the conversation to dry up. But Carl kept talking. His voice was soft.
    "Exes are a pain aren't they? There should be some device that makes them invisible once we're finished with them. There's a device for everything these days. It's surprising they haven't developed the invisible exes app."
    I couldn't help but smile. Through my distress, through my discomfort, and despite the fact that I was flushed, I smiled.
    "I met an ex once when I was out shopping,” he said. “She was with her new boyfriend and they were out trying on clothes. She'd just slipped into the dress and had walked out from the changing rooms to show her new man. Of course, they were still in the