He
found himself thinking of her standing in the tub, rolled towel between
her teeth, as Krishna approached her wings with his knife, and he went
back into the room to dress.
"We going to eat breakfast?" she asked in the smallest voice.
He said nothing, couldn't will himself to talk.
"There's still food in the car," she said after some silence had slipped
by. "We can eat that."
And without any more words, they climbed into the car and he put the
pedal down, all the way to Toronto, stopping only once for gas and
cigarettes after he smoked all the ones left in her pack.
When they cleared the city limits and drove under the viaduct at
Danforth Avenue, getting into the proper downtown, he eased off the
Parkway and into the city traffic, taking the main roads with their high
buildings and stoplights and people, people, people.
"We're going home?" she said. The last thing she'd said was, "Are you
hungry?" fourteen hours before and he'd only shook his head.
"Yes," he said.
"Oh," she said.
Was Krishna home? She was rooting in her purse now, and he knew that she
was looking for her knife.
"You staying with me?" he said.
"Can I?" she said. They were at a red light, so he looked into her
eyes. They were shiny and empty as marbles.
"Yes," he said. "Of course. And I will have a word with Krishna."
She looked out the window.
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