Before Corrine’s husband abandoned her in Berlin, he liked to say that her name reminded him of the word “corrupt.” But ending in a twist rather than a split. Her last name was the French word for “swimsuit” but he never mentioned that. This seemed strange now that he was gone, as many of his behaviors did. Kind of like how the best view of a city is when you’re leaving it.
They were in Germany on his business, which was diplomatic in nature and disclosure. It was not unusual for him to spend several days away at a time without telling her where he was going or why. When they’d first started seeing each other this seemed sexy; Corinne could imagine him tangled in some web of greater intrigue. Seven years in though it mostly involved making small talk with her fellow wives at black-tie dinners, where it seemed the less you knew about your spouse’s work the more important it must be. Corinne very rarely knew the least. His insistent mysteriousness had begun to grow stale.
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Still, she’d been excited when he told her about his newest posting. Corinne had been nine years old when the…
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