Rosie's Lament

Have you ever stolen anything? A sweetie? Some nail varnish? A magazine tucked under your arm? I stole a man once. I stole a husband. I stole him softly and sweetly. Whisper by whisper. Gaze by gaze. I held his hand under the table. He made me skin shimmer and my blood sparkle. He called me his little ruby. And now the guilt seethes in my belly like a snake pit. I don’t have much to say. There’s nothing to say. And there’s nothing to do except slip away quietly. The Middleton Players are a very well-respected troupe. Mr Middleton has his pick of young actresses, I’m sure he’ll have no trouble replacing me. I’m sure it isn’t the first time that something like this has happened and I’m quite sure it won’t be the last. I didn’t think it wrong. I didn’t think at all. It was as though it had already happened. But I did feel. Yes. I did feel. For him. It wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t a means to an end. But this is the end.