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Show Woodworth/205 waist. The muscles across her back and shoulders, protest. Yes. She smiles, too. The sated smile. Oh woman, have you got yourself a man. A question nags through the fog. "Is it all right?" she asks. "Is what all right?" he asks. "That you stayed." "Is it all right," he says, mimicking her. He laughs low, a private joke. "Is it all right," he says again. She waits for an answer. No, he's not going to answer. "Is it all right?" she asks again. "I don't know," he says. He pulls her towards him, and her body flinches in pain. "How should I know?" he asks. She remembers the pieces of her mother's present, scattered in pieces on the kitchen floor- He rolls her against themattress, and she is trapped against him again. At the door, she waits for him to kiss her. Her face burns from the scratch of his beard, and her spine feels like it's made from steel. Can't go to work today. He knocks the bottom part of her chin gently, but, still, it hurts. He turns to go downstairs. Are you coming back today? Are you going to bring clothes over here? Do you care? Are you going to get a divorce? Are you going to tell her? Are things really different? Do you care? "Gary," she says. He stops and leans back against the wall, looking up at her. His face is pale, black pockets under his eyes. But his body still lounges, sensual, serpentine. A half smile. A dare. "Yeah?" |