No point in speaking, no reasonable thing to say. It had all been debated endlessly in the second between her mother’s drawn-in breath and Natalie’s involuntary movement that checked it. Her mother had almost said, “Natalie, are you happy?” and Natalie had almost said, “No”; her mother had almost said, “Everything seems somehow to go badly,” and Natalie had almost said, “I know it and I can’t help it”; her mother had almost said, “Let me help you,” and Natalie had almost said, “What can you do?”
