The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. "He would return my letters unopened or destroy them. "I must go. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women.
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