In the end, it was the closing scene that did it. After three weeks, he could still not find the dialogue to convey the essence of the new Martha, the transformed Martha. Everything he put in her mouth sounded flat, banal. He could see her, he knew how she walked, gestured, he could hear the inflection of her voice, but her words remained, infuriatingly, just out of reach.
And so, one Thursday afternoon, in a fit of nympholepsy, he tore up the manuscript and walked into the sea.
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