Finish the story begins with: “As her mount shifted uneasily under her, she grasped the brim of her old felt Stetson, gazed upwards and remembered Jean Pierre.”
She was groping for the words which would express what she thought. She closed her eyes, hazel in colour and thought of him. Ah, memories like some classical texts were adapted for apothegms and imagery. They used to walk along the Champs-Elysees, his arm draped around her shoulders as she sidled up to him. The prism of the Louvre made her thought of their arguments and at the same time the potency of their affair. Like leopards in the cage, they’ve got to be released. It was getting too complicated, thus, a mutual decision to end the affair that was.