“Don’t you see? This was to be ours together, the successes and the failures,” Mabel said, and as she spoke she gestured grandly as if to encompass everything, the plucked chickens, the wet feathers. “All of this?” he said, and couldn’t help a smile. “Yes, all of this.” Then she too smiled. “Every blasted feather. Mine and yours.” Jack leaned over and kissed her on the tip of her nose, then stuck a chicken feather behind her ear.
