by Paul Lewthwaite I taught mathematics, but dabbled with him. When the affair ended, no formula could encapsulate his rage. The police were useless. I withdrew from life; silent anger bubbled in my shell of shame. A year later, I tracked him down. Subtracting guilt, an equation arose that I could solve. Fatally. * * * Paul is a retired physician living in Scotland with his wife and a small, but all-powerful cat. Occasionally he writes stories, some even get published. Paul's fledgling (and sadly neglected!) website can be found at When Can I Call Myself a Writer?
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