She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. . . She felt his crotch through his jeans. "I have," replied Jonathan. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. I didn’t understand. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. Morality is a point of view. Particles of bullet were embedded in Rhea’s large arm as she swung across the stones in her donated legs. Then, naturally, I went on talking. “Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully.
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