I picked it up, trying to keep my fingers fromtrembling and failing badly. As always, it was cream-coloured paper, heavy and expensive. My name was...rinted on the front in black ink, elaborately scripted. I opened it andextracted the single sheet of paper from within. It was equally expensive, soheavy that it was verging on card. It had been folded into three, the creasessharp enough that they might have been ironed in. I unfolded it. More black ink script. "Regarding a matter. He was a stinking drunk, so I didn't need him. It's one thing to drink casually, like we're doing now, but he was nearly always sauced toward the end. Plus, he's a hypocrite. He's a fucking director and probably gets a dozen blowjobs from auditioning thespians, but he gets incensed at the idea that I might possibly give one. Never mind that it's how we met in the first place. Well, enough about me. Perhaps Ninve should talk now," Jen fumed at the memory of her ex."There's less for me to say. My. More

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