or Phoenix From The Flame
In my confusion, this evening I at least managed to drag myself to yoga, the class that Seth goes to. (I think it might fit in with my schedule after all.) Whilst doing the Warrior Pose, I started thinking about all the horror and my arms began to shake and sink towards the floor. But then I felt strength, like a bolt of lightening, rising up from my feet, up through my shapely legs, and hips, and into my arms, until my whole body was glowing from the inside out. Vikram looked briefly alarmed, and asked if I was ok. Seth noticed too, of course, giving me a tiny gentle nod.
When the rest of the class moved on to the next pose, I said to Vikram that I’d like to stay in Warrior a while longer. By this point, the glow had risen to my head as well, and there it was: I found my missing thinking cap. And it was no meagre, flimsy thing. It was a crown of shimmering flames, calcinating my pain into ashes of realisation.
I knew then that I have to find a lawyer. I will ask the wise ladies on the Real Singapore Expat Wives Facebook group, and the Flying Solo group. The problem is the money as it’s not easy for me to get large sums under the radar from our joint account, but my crown offered immediate reassurance, telling me to sell whatever I can. That dampened my mood a little. It’ll be horrendous to say goodbye to my handbags and watches. Needs must, though. Needs must.
I got home tonight and am having some Veuve Click on the roof terrace. I’m fighting off the desire to Whatsapp Clara, but fight, I must. Given her obvious nefarious intent and shameful betrayal of my trust, she would of course tell Don that I know. I can’t let that happen before I have a plan in place. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of being an accessory to my assassination.