The bathroom door opened a crack; he caught a glimpse of Roni, pink and rubbery and clean, drying herself. “Did you call me, dear?” “No,” he said. “I was talking to my doctor.” “Everyone makes errors,” Dr. Smile said, a trifle vacuously. Barney said, “How’d she and I happen to—” He gestured toward the bedroom. “After so short a time.” “Chemistry,” Dr. Smile said. “Come on.” “Well, you’re both precogs. You previewed that you’d eventually hit it off, become erotically involved. So you both decided—after a few drinks—that why should you wait? ‘Life is short, art is—’” The suitcase ceased
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