The air between the two of them, the swirl of headlights in the misty murk, the peaceful whine of tires rolling by on the wet asphalt of main, outside, and just Kismet and Hugo in the dim bookstore, and the many titles, Anna Karenina among them, which mirrored their ecstasy and now their plight, and Chekhov, ‘The Lady with the Dog,’ ending at the moment where their difficulties also had begun, and contemporary novels of betrayal and adultery and sin, which Kismet and Hugo would read for confirmation of themselves and which often ended with death the justice, but most often only for the woman.
