"He lit cigarettes for both of us and lay back. He was quiet, so I was; he was thinking, so I did.
We lay there in the dark.
I said, "What?"
He didn't answer for a long time, so long I thought he wouldn't. Then, finally, he said, "Everything."
Even now, remembering the sound of his voice chastens every word I say.
We drank fruit juice. We did breathing exercises.
When he wanted a cigarette, he took a nap. I wept."