I followed you home on the train. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. I just want him, and no one else will do. For me that is all over and done with.
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