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Show 114 What we talked about? Asked the neighbors? Over? You jto know we're having two couples here for cocktails tomorrow? You did hear." Hunt didn't begrudge Leah's inquiry. He knew that: even present, he'd been sometimes absent. But this was the new Hunt, The Realist; he was trying . . . something, a new awareness. "Terrific!" he said. "Sure! Great! I'm glad you did it! What are their names?" "You'll have to come out of your studio, you know." Hunt laughed. He leaned and bit Leah on the shoulder. She smiled. "Don't worry," Hunt kissed her. "I'm planning on it." He mimed jotting in an appointment book, "Neighbors and Cocktails -- Fourth of July." Hunt knew that Leah appreciated his having some sense of calendar in his head again. The previous winter, Time -- days, whole weeks -- had seemed frozen somewhere, iced in his blue-grey melancholy eyes. "I'll even make a dip!" Hunt said. "If you do -- wear a bathing suit." Leah wasn't taking chances. "Honey: No. As in clam. Make a dip. What would you think of that?" Leah held her breath. "I'll be grateful for a clean change of slacks," she said. "And perhaps - do you think - six hours vacation from those sneakers?" "Hey . . ." he chided, stretching his arms, turning like a fashion model. "Hey - it's the new Hunt! The new energy! The new awareness! The new lease on everything! It's The Realist!" "Hunt," Leah said. "Calm down." |