“I’m no more ‘surplus’ than she is, this woman who’s living in my apartment with my son. Do you know that I haven’t been allowed to talk to Louis for five days?” But Louis isn’t alone in sparking all this fury. She also hates the way the other woman’s chin wobbles when she’s overwhelmed by anger, the tiny twisting at the corners of her mouth, the stubborn attempt to contain the fireworks behind a pretense of detachment, the way she pushes her glasses back up by screwing up her nose. So many readable signs on both their faces. And there was the shock of appreciating her prettiness, even though
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