‘Do you ever feel like you’re not alive?’ He checks his pulse. He says, ‘I think I’m alive.’ ‘I don’t mean physically. I mean emotionally, I suppose. Alive on the inside.’ He considers this for a moment. He puts on a Hollywood accent as if he were Clint Eastwood or John Wayne. ‘You make me feel alive,’ he says, and she almost cries, feeling almost certain that the accent means that he’s embarrassed, not that he’s insincere. She squeezes his hand and tries to clear up the breakfast things despite his insistence that she sit down and relax.
men are so deeply annoying
