Extraordinary
““Are we going to do this thing?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll stay?”
“Of course I’ll stay.”
And I thought, Nothing works out the way you think it will. And this won’t either. So I know which way it won’t work out. But the other way, the way it will, that I don’t know. How was it supposed to go again? The climb up eighteen flights of stairs, the quick walk down the hall, into the apartment. But then what? I can’t seem to recall. What did I think would come after the apartment? The next day, the next week. A year later. Five years later. Surely I must have thought about that: that the end of something isn’t necessarily the end of it. A man parts the curtains one morning and discovers an entire planet revolving just outside the window. Oh, I see.
Sally looked back at the flame, nodding. “What were we talking about?”
“Edward Albee.”
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