Rose left her husband snoring deeply in the covers and palmed her children’s bedroom door before slipping out to meet the pre-dawn glow. No one bothered her as she made her way, her face hidden in her hood. When she reached the colosseum the crowds were buzzing with blood lust. She settled her skirts on the dusty bench, then saw her paramour emerge, saw his sword thrown, his pen drawn, the beasts defeated still. She left to find him, fighting through hands tearing her clothes, scratching her skin. She tripped and shut her eyes against a sea of feet trampling.