The Cactus

by Sarah Haywood

But you’re forty-five years old, single and of limited financial means, you might well be thinking. I am, of course, acutely aware of those facts,

It was unsettling to think that others could see aspects of me that I couldn’t easily see myself.

Oh, the unparalleled wittiness of the woman. How I’d missed it.

What I lack in terms of family and other close personal relationships is more than compensated for by my rich inner life, which is infinitely more constant and dependable.

far from being the protagonist in my own story I’ve simply been a minor character in someone else’s.