"It's a story of obsession." Sophie said, not able to look her friend in the eyes.

"The trouble is, I'm not sure whose obsession".

She stared at her espresso, stirring it absent-mindedly with the spoon. Eva looked worried, and studied her carefully. She had noticed a change in Sophie over the last few days, and they had finally found time to sit and talk. Her interrogation had begun in a light tone of voice, an easy
approach...

"...so who is he? have you slept with him yet?"…

Sophie’s reaction had been surprising - not the amused grin she had expected - much more a defensive glare, as if the question had been rude: and they had quickly decided to go for a coffee in the city.

And now, in a pavement café somewhere in the anonymous downtown, she listened to the start of the story.

"I've hardly seen him" Sophie continued "and I don't know if I ever will properly…".

She hesitated.

"I don't even know if I want to see him…".

"It is almost as if I am a character in a story; sometimes I feel like he is manipulating me, creating emotions within me that I didn't know I could feel… and I hate him for that. I mean he hasn't touched me… he hasn't even said he wants to touch me. The relationship, this thing, has gone from a harmless flirt to…"

She shook her head. Eva didn't say anything. She waited. Around them, she could hear city traffic noises, birdsong and snippets of conversation from passers-by.

Sophie raised her head and looked directly at her friend. Her face was set. She said in a low but firm voice

"it needs to stop before I lose control, but..."

" … what?" said her friend softly.

"I need to know what happens next"