*Author’s note: I do not condone the use of disabled toilets for those of us who do not require them. It is highly unethical. Also, cheating is bad, you naughty boys and girls.*
I ran down the Cairns Esplanade with tears on my face, perspiration soaking through my tight black tank top, sweating in the dry July heat. I was running away from the Holiday Inn, where I had left my husband minutes before. I was running from the man I had thought that I knew, thought that I could trust and with whom I could build a life. But that had been ripped apart. Where was I running to, though? I didn’t know. Oh, I didn’t know what was coming, either.
“I’m sorry.” He had said. “I thought maybe I’d change my mind someday, but I realise now that I won’t.”
So, he had thought he would change his mind about the one thing I had told him I’d always wanted, from the start. He had lied to me. He had lied, he said, hoping that someday the lie would become the truth, but it hadn’t.