CHAPTER 40

We spoke for hours as we dropped from orbit, our bodies intertwined in the blankets. We spoke about our day's activities, recalling our encounter with Gugliotti and exchanging comments about his supper and my night out with friends. We started talking about the damaged desk, and I added that I had only brought enough underpants for a week so that he couldn't destroy any more. But despite all of our chit-chat, we failed to acknowledge the agony he was igniting inside of my heart.

I felt him stop the motion of my finger as I moved it down his chest, take it in his palm, and then tenderly bring it to his lips. "It's nice to talk to you," he said.

I chuckled while removing his hair off his forehead. "You communicate with me daily. I mean scream, shout, slam doors, and pout when I say "talk."

He skillfully diverted my attention by starting to trace spirals with his hands over my exposed midsection. You understand what I'm saying, he said.