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Show 358 the net on the ping-pong table and examined the two ten-speed bikes that stood propped in a corner. The green one was slightly smaller than the gold one. He twiddled the knobs on an old cathedral-shaped radio that rested on a dusty table that was littered with wires and screwdrivers and a curved needlenosed pliers. He scanned the books in the case by the stairs and even took one out and opened it. It had something to do with calculus but he couldn't tell if that meant it was hers or Floyd's. He put it back, glanced at his watch, and went upstairs. She was at the sink rinsing off her hands. A crumpled grapefruit rind lay on the counter next to the sink. "I'll make you a waffle," she said. "Do you want coffee?" "If you have some already made. Don't go to any trouble." Actually he was feeling the onset of his caffeine-free headache-something he was liable to since returning from his mission-and hoped very much that she would make some. "Boiling water isn't any trouble. You don't mind instant, I hope." She held up a jar of Folger's, and his ears suddenly roared. "No, no. Two percent is fine," he said. "What?" "Instant, I mean. I'm still not awake." "How did you sleep last night? Was it too cold?" She spooned coffee crystals into a fragile-looking cup with a scrolled handle. "No, it was fine. I have a warm bag." He kept watching her to see if she would look at him, either to smile or to warn him with unblinking eyes that he was not funny. "You get your choice," she said, pulling a package out of the freezer. "Blueberry or honey nut." She held one in either hand and looked past |
