her pity encompassed her too and she saw the two of them together, pitiful and childish. They were both going to die, the same man who had rapped on his teeth with his knuckles, in such an alive movement. She herself, with the top of the stairs and all of her capacity to want to feel. The main things assaulted her at any old time, in the in-between moments too, filling them with meanings. How many times had she tipped the waiter more than necessary just because she’d remembered that he was going to die and didn’t know it.
