'No-strings-attached fling guilt' indeed exists

Photo: Courtesy

You are on board a plane back to the city. It is a bright, sunny mid-morning. The peanuts taste like dry timber. The in-flight magazines are unreadable and you are so awake - that breakfast coffee was a bad idea.

Carol is also awake. She is seated by the window pretending to admire the clouds beneath, but really, she is avoiding the discussion. The post-mortem of the short vacation that you just had. It is the hour of reckoning.