Her voice is flat and coolly distant, so I imagine things aren’t over between us.

F. said he ran into his former wife in the street, in New York, and they talked. They talked as if neither of them knew how to say nice to see you, I’m expected somewhere, good-bye, good-bye. They went to a restaurant and ate and talked some more, and they went to her apartment, and they made love. Then she said, “So why did we get divorced?” F. smiled at me and shrugged and said, “See?” as if he were an idiot of circumstances, schlepped…