It didn’t feel physical. It was a merging of those parts of us that dream, a full unmasking of two human beings. Afterwards he went to the bathroom and returned and began swiftly to get dressed. He sat on a chair, away from me, and I saw in his eyes something like regret, a faraway look. Moments before, hovering above me, he had said, “I want to look at you,” and now there he was upright and remote, his face shuttered, his shirt slightly creased. I wanted to cry. I sensed his withdrawal, this man who was not at ease with lies, who had never cheated on his wife.