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Show 196 The water, mildly soapy, was hot. Hunt smiled. "Where's my boat?" he said. "I want my boat - and my submarine." "You have your submarine," Leah smirked. "That's my torpedo." Hunt held a steaming washcloth to his face. He felt Leah's hand squeezing his leg. "I love you," she said. "I give you a hard time - but I think you're really quite a selfless person." Leah's words struck. They burst some vessel: pleasure, laughter, tears and Hunt threw his head back and made a barking sound. His head smacked the hot water tap. "Are you all right?" Leah asked, seeing his red, stricken face. "Hunt: you're not crying, are you?" "Who cares!" Hunt said. "Who knows!" He clowed. He tried to make his face and body into some animal in a cartoon. "You're my silly man," Leah told him. And she put her hand to her lips, then transferred it to his thigh. That night -- the last time? -- Hunt slipped again from their bed and wandered into the family room, sliding the glass door to the patio and walking outside. He swept his eyes over the city. He swept his eyes over the hills. The dark seemed vast and branched like a membrane. Hunt looked out to where he had let the marten go that afternoon. He remembered his dream. His heart was free again! His heart was wild and in the night. He had given it up. Christmas was close. And New Year. It would either live or die. But it was free. |