He’s gone. Left without any accusations or reasons. Two days ago, he packed his bags, walked out of the house and getting into his car drove off leaving only a whiff of Armani behind.

Two years, five weeks, three days ago, Jed, with his familiar lopsided smile, asked Denise if he could move into her flat seeing as they got on so well. That they loved one and other. That they spent a lot of time together. That they had the same interests in common.

She agreed and they celebrated with a Chinese takeaway, a few bottles of white wine and a new king sized bed, new duvet, duvet covers and matching pillow cases bought on her credit card.

Now a rising sun begins to radiate above the smooth hill, its rays sweeping across heavy frost that gleams silver. Unable to sleep in that king size bed or to rest in one place, Denise walks, her mind going over his treachery, his abandonment of her.

Grief and anger mimic one and other to the point that she’s unable to make out what she’s really feeling. Icy crystals crunch beneath her feet and the Tumble Downs are silent as if every creature that inhabits the area is afraid of her unsettling presence.

Then a slight movement catches her eye. She stops. In front of her she sees a dog fox, its coat burnished bronze in new sunlight. Their eyes meet. The fox’s thick brush swishes back and forth in lazy motion. Then it sits like a pet pooch, its amber, unflinching gaze fixed upon her.

Entranced, Denise can neither stir or breath and, for a long moment, it’s as if their thoughts intermingle and when the fox finally rises and trots off, she watches its confident progress and as she watches, her anger and grief melts like the frost on this early, winter’s morning.