Read by Paul Clarke
It was after six months that I noticed the change.
It wasn’t anything in particular; but now that the excitement of the wedding was over I found things irritated me that hadn’t before. The way she licked her fingers before turning a page, for example, or the little sigh she gave when sitting down. And, increasingly, her clothes. She had once made an effort; now, she hulked on the sofa at night in baggy grey tracksuit bottoms, the label of her underwear creeping up her back. The television flickered soundlessly in the background as she leaved through Grazia, clucking occasionally in disapproval at the fashion pages.