Mr Aloysuis Greaves fondles a long slender glove. The satin catches on the rough skin of his fingers. His nose draws in the leftover evening scent and his breathing halts. Over watery pupils, his eyelids close, thick with lashes. The tufted eyebrows lift with pleasure.
With trembling lips, he kisses the smooth fabric, then lays it down on the cheap second-hand bedside cabinet. He smooths out the glove with his palms, makes it into a flat black shadow of his Julianna. Wiping his brilliantined hair back from his forehead, Mr Aloysuis says good night to his first love as he has for thirty years.
He switches off the light and waits to hear her footsteps again.
