A couple rushes into the night, not yet aware that it is their last one together.  A woman catches her reflection in the window and gasps for breath.  A man loses his temper and with it the self-control that he has rigorously guarded for decades.  Three noiseless anecdotes that Woolf, Plath and Verhelst would soundly turn into stories that I’d love to read.
The story is what’s missing here.
The couple, the woman and the man are not narratives. They are embarrassed, tight-lipped animals and I’d rather draw them like that..