was a pulse, loud as an ooomm-pah from a Sousa march, and the shriek time makes when you are yanked from it. Hell, yes, it was the sex—what Lizzie’s preacher, the Reverend Oram Tinsley, M.Div., once called the den and lair and roost of us. And for nearly two months it was more of everything than you’re supposed to have in this vale. More of more.
