“I was going to run down the middle of the street like the Terminator.” “What, on foot?” I come closer by another six paces. “Where are you actually going?” My voice rings down the empty street. I hold my hands up to show I’m not armed. It doesn’t come out the way I’d intended. “He glances over his shoulder, no doubt hearing my insanely loud shoes stop in their tracks. “Sometimes Daddy sleeps on the couch, but it’s okay. “It’s just grown-up stuff,” I softly explain to the apprehensive faces we pass.

Even when we’re arguing, it’s not your fault.” A few meerkat heads have popped up over cubicle walls. To the casual onlooker he is politely chatting. “Mommy and Daddy love you very much, kids,” Joshua says quietly so only I can hear him. My short striped dress flaps from the g-force. Joshua and I nod at her and continue striding, unified in our endless game of one-upmanship. Annabelle turns from the photocopier and almost drops her papers. “Ah-ha-ha,” we say to each other genially at some pretend joke. Joshua and I look at each other and bare our teeth. Colleagues break off conversations and look at us with speculative expressions. It requires me to almost double my stride. We march purposefully toward the kitchen with identical footfalls, left, right, left, right, like prosecutors walking toward the camera in the opening credits of Law & Order. Does he think I’m crazy? “I think I’ll join you.”

I look down my hand is already holding my red polka-dot mug. Can I get you some tea?” He has his heavy black mug in his hand.

We act like normal colleagues who don’t want to swirl their hands in each other’s blood. It’s a game called How You Doing? and it basically starts off like we don’t hate each other. “How You Doing, Little Lucy?” His bright tone and mild expression indicates we’re playing a game we almost never play.

The hating game sally