"I hang up the coat and haul over one of those brown metal folding things. Best I have. She shakes it out and sits down. She looks up at me, the book in her lap, marking her place with her finger. Fucking poison, that book, I don't know why anybody reads it. I read it two years ago, right after I got divorced. Maybe people read it when they feel miserable already and want to feel worse."As a matter of fact, Abe, I'm not, really," she says. No smile. "How'd you know?" You always smile a lot," I say, "but not today." Well, I thank you for asking." She opens the book where her finger was and starts to read. I figure that means, "Go away." But I don't.Now I just dive in. I've got no sense at all."What's the matter?" I say. "It can't be that bad."She looks up, but she keeps her finger in the book."You really want to know?" Yeah, I do," I say. I mean it. It's a tragedy when a woman like her looks like this."Lots of things, I guess," she says. "Some of them are stupid--really stupid--and I. As she did, she pressed her stick of charcoal between her fingers so tight it snapped in half, and she blinked, startled.She needed to hear Justin’s approval again, but what she wanted was even more than that.Willow pulled her sketchbook and pencils from her bag and feverishly began to draw. --0--Now...While Willow cleared the plates from her Saturday afternoon dessert and coffee with Faith, her sister strolled around her apartment checking out her things.“So what are you and Mitchell up to this evening?” Willow asked as she rinsed out the sink.“The husband has got his indoor soccer league match,” Faith replied with a dismissive shake of her head. She idly shuffled through the items on the coffee table and sighed, “I’ve got nothing on the go.”“Maybe we can catch a movie together, then?”“Sure. Why not?” Faith shrugged. “Hey. This looks new. Are you drawing again?”Willow turned to see her sister flipping through her sketchbook. Wiping her hands with a towel, she replied, “Um… yeah. I.
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