And he’d go on calling – ‘Ann!’ Over and over, like a child would - like you would, love, when you were still in the house.
If I were at the sink, I might take off the gloves slowly. I’d make a job of laying them on the draining board, careful, the fingers all together. Only then would I go up.
This particular day, Ciara, I could see him as I came up the stairs, his ankles out on show. The rest of him didn’t give anything away but the ankles were a shock. Thin and unlovely. Old. He was down on his knees in the wardrobe, searching about.
This particular day, it could be any day, you understand."
The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt
[Listen to the rest of this short radio story here. This piece was performed as part of the RTÉ Radio 1 Francis McManus Award by Irish actress Ingrid Craigie.]