“There is nothing that I could discover about you, or about myself, that would make me want to do this any less.” His tone is arrogant and self-assured, and brooks no argument. I hate it. Sadly, I could see myself loving it. He steps closer once again. “I know we have done this before, Ethel.” “No. No, we haven’t. How do you even . . . ?” “I know your smell. I know your skin. Your hair. It’s all familiar. I have it all memorized. And I dream of you—of this. So many dreams, all so different, we must have done it a million times, in a million different ways. Tell me what you’re hiding from me,
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