We'll always have Paris
The first time I noticed Pete's breathing problem I was sitting in the passenger seat of his V8 automatic Hilux ute. Four normal quiet breaths followed by one long deep breath. In then out, whistling through that deviated septum. The cycle repeated itself over and over again as he leaned forward driving, as he did, his right arm wrapped over the top of the steering wheel. Fucking ignore it I told myself. I'd had a lot of lectures during my 6 years of dating: "You're too picky Doris!" "Not all men..." "Why do you even bother?" Maybe I could put up with it? Pete hadn't done well for himself since his split from his wife some 10 years earlier. His need to purchase a roaring ute for the short drive to work each day had beaten the need to own a home. As a result, at 50yrs of age, he was renting a small, rather depressing 2 bedroom unit. He'd entered a relationship shortly after splitting with his wife and when that had ended two years