I keep coming back to that daywhen I awoke from an eight hour block of sleep and you said you were going to cook breakfast for ‘your husband’ in a tone of voice which promised something grand.
About half-an-hour later you brought apple fritters to me on the back porch where I sat trying to make sense of the sun and the birds as my mind leapt from limb to limb along with them like a set of scampering lemurs and the hornets fortifying their nest just under the corner of our garage.
I explained that these weren’t technically
