“Well, now, fallen angel. You, I’d say, are now lost. You’re not afraid, are you . . .? Well, then, goodbye! You will return alone. Right?” She opened the mirrored door that was set into one side of the closet; she waited, looking at me over her shoulder. I obediently left. But I had hardly stepped across the threshold when suddenly I needed her to press up against my shoulder again—only for a second, on my shoulder, not more.
