he had walked by and dropped a piece of paper on the coffee table parallel to the couch as she was lying there reading a magazine. she found him in the kitchen drinking scotch out of a tumbler with some ice and he grimaced everytime he drank some down. she held the piece of paper in her hand half out as if she was presenting it to him:

well, whats this all about. and he shrugged, drank a little bit more and looked at her very seriously.

we've been robbed, he said. he drank again. we've been taken by a con artist. he shrugged. could happen to anyone. the clock in the kitchen read five thirty and she had already exercised and painted her nails and gone down to the library to return some books. she had been looking forward to dinner. and now they were done. just done. her mind frantically ran to her mother. but she was gone. passed away a little over a year ago and now she was by herself. it felt like that anyway. she tucked the piece of paper in her pocket and gave him a cool look. she looked at his glass, at the half empty bottle of scotch. she looked very hard at what he was wearing and she made a mental note of all of it. it made sense.

what do you want me to do, he asked. he took another drink and this time he made no face. he looked at her with deep eyes and she opened her mouth ready to say something.

they just stood around silently until the clock had moved almost ten minutes. he had filled his glass once in that time and the room was a bit cooler than before. her magazine was outside on the couch. what about all of it and her mind was moving too fast, with too much worry, and with a coming calm. it was always like this. she was used to being broken and picking it up. she knew how and knew that time was the way. she never knew how much but she could feel the solution, the picking up the pieces, as it approached. there was a small amount of anger and she was figuring the best way to use it. he had to get back what he had lost. without it life would be difficult and she would have more than her fill. she didn't want that.

i'm having a hard time with this. i hope you understand. i mean, i know you know. i just needed to say it, and he became hard and silent and looked both to the ground and up but not at her and drank slowly and it was slow enough to notice the ice slowly melting in the tumbler.

I

don't

care,

and she moved out of the kitchen and went back to the couch and to her magazine and to dinner. he had better fix it.