I made my own side of the bed as though I had slept in it and gotten up, because at 6:44 in the morning I had worked out that when he came back he was going to want to know where I had been, and that whatever I told him had to be the least interesting possible answer.

Then I made coffee.

He came in at 7:10 with a paper bag from a bakery on Larchmere and a coat over his arm and a completely different body.

That is the thing I cannot convey and have stopped trying to.

The man who came through that door at ten past seven was not the man who had stood in front of that armoire at half past two.

He was expansive.