It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. “So far you’ve got me and I you. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. They were sitting alone, Lucy. 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.
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