The Envy in Her Throat

In Marseille, ceramic artist Camille is becoming the name every gallery wants. Her husband Thierry, an art critic whose own voice is fading from notice, stands beside her at openings and says he is proud. He means it. He also envies her.

Soon she can taste what he refuses to say. His envy crosses their shared air overnight and settles in her throat as sour heat. With each transmission, tenderness turns competitive and every success acquires an aftertaste.

The only reliable boundary is distance. They divide the bedroom, the apartment, the hours of the day. Camille can breathe again. Thierry can keep his private weather inside his own body.

But when the clay beneath Camille's hands begins to lose its tension, separation no longer looks like a cure.

What if the ugliest feeling in their marriage has been shaping more than the marriage?