On Saturday mornings, Lauren slept late and Tyler would go to the bakery at the bottom of the hill and buy doughnuts and the newspaper. Lauren would just be stirring when he arrived back, the blankets piled over her head. He would undress and get back into bed. “Let’s do this when we’re eighty,” he said one morning, smoothing back her hair from her moistened face. “Yes, oh, yes,” she said. And why wouldn’t they? World without end—their happiness.
