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Show with Enrique. Steven and Sara sat at the table, read paper-back novels left behind by the tourists, invented crossword puzzles and solved them, talked about his Cleveland and her North Carolina. What they had in common was being cold. "Nicko can be such a jerk sometimes," said Sara. Full of sympathy, Steven nodded. "All he does down there," she said, "is drink and talk with Enrique about the goddamn weather." Steven looked at her. She was pouting, her lower lip curled out and down like a child's, and he wanted to comfort her. He got up from his chair and went to stand behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't be upset," he said, "you're just bored, that's all." She looked up at him. The pout was already gone. "You're right," she said, "let's do_ something." "Sure. Okay. What do you want to do?" "Stevie," she said, "let's go buy a goddamn space heater." They shopped for it as though they were buying an engagement ring-considered this and that model, comparing size and price and claims of quality as they went from one hardware store to another. Over coffee they reached their final decision, then went to purchase the one that cost exactly a thousand pesetas. Triumphantly they carried it home, a trophy, a prize, an award |