That’s probably what sparked the idea. I say idea, when I mean infatuation. That was probably when the idea took shape. Infatuation. When we ordered at the restaurant, which was full of people like us, my face burned and the rain dripped out of my hair, and I shook off like a Labrador, and the drops went flying, and Mike laughed, and laughter is one way to shake yourself. Shaking yourself is the only way to survive. Like an antelope that just barely escapes shakes itself. Like a cat that encounters a handsy child shakes itself. What ails me is grief, I thought. Grief that refuses to be budged.
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