We men are like children. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. ” Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. There’s something— something ADULT about you. Go for it. They would arrive sometime in June. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Look at these walls.
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