Winnie tugs off her glasses. She is near enough to Jay that he doesn’t haze away completely. He simply softens and smudges from a moon-sharp line drawing to an impressionist painting. It is easier to hold his gaze this way. “And do you like me now?” she asks. “Yes,” he repeats, although this time he doesn’t nod. There is only the word to hang in the air between them. Yes. It is too heavy to be carried away by the wind. Yes. It is too uncompromising, too one-dimensional, too simple to be misinterpreted. Yes, I used to like you. Yes, I like you now.
