Chapter 8

           Sheceasedhernarrative,andwhenhemadenoimmediatecomment,shethoughtatfirstthatthestoryhadputhimtosleep.Shehadbeguntodrowseherselfwhenheasked:"That’sall?"

           "Yes.That’sall.It’sverylate."

           "Um."Hewasrollinganothercigarette.

           "Don’tgogettingyourtobaccodandruffinmybed,"shetoldhim,moresharplythanshehadintended.

           "No."

           Silenceagain.Thetipofhiscigarettewinkedoffandon.

           "You’llbeleavinginthemorning,"shesaiddully.

           "Ishould.Ithinkhe’sleftatrapformehere."

           "Don’tgo,"shesaid.

           "We’llsee."

           Heturnedonhissideawayfromher,butshewascomforted.Hewouldstay.Shedrowsed.

           OntheedgeofsleepshethoughtagainaboutthewayNorthadaddressedhim,inthatstrangetalk.Shehadnotseenhimexpressemotionbeforeorsince.Evenhislovemakinghadbeenasilentthing,andonlyatthelasthadhisbreathingroughenedandthenstoppedforaminute.Hewaslikesomethingoutofafairytaleoramyth,thelastofhisbreedinaworldthatwaswritingthelastpageofitsbook.Itdidn’tmatter.Hewouldstayforawhile.Tomorrowwastimeenoughtothink,orthedayafterthat.Sheslept.