”He smiled but he was confused. “What kind of guessing game?”“You close your eyes, then I let you smell something,” she said. “If you can...guess what it is, then you can have it.”He made a face. “You’re not going to make me smell your feet are you?” he asked.She laughed. Her laugh was a tinkle, like magic. “No,” she said, lighlty punching his knee. “Not my feet! Come on, let’s play.”“Okay,” he said, resignedly. He leaned back in the sofa and closed his eyes. He heard her getting up.“No. Her name was Ciara, she was 31, short red hair, quite good looking but not to most men. She was married to Charlie. The first time I saw Charlie was the first day I was moving in. I just got off the bus, struggling with my luggage. He opened the door for me and offered a hand. He caught my eye immediately. He had curly, brown hair; he was average height and had a really strong Dublin accent. It was his smile that caught my attention: a contagious smile with perfect white teeth. It was a late. More

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