Literature
The Cellist's Wife
Aubrey is holding her again. As he has held her every day for many weeks. She is his one true love. I watch him from the doorway of his studio, embracing her. I envy the way he lays her body against him, the way his legs fit around her so perfectly, the way they seem made for one another. He told me, when we married, that he would never love another more than me, but I can see it. He adores her. And how can I deny him the beauty and purity of his love? The world is so lacking in a love like theirs. When he slides his bow over her strings, the singing of the vibration, there is nothing like it.
Aubrey's cello is the woman he longs for, the