stare looked as though it was aimed towards a picture of us at Niagara Falls that hung above the TV.
‘Who? What did you just say?’
‘Frannie.’
Her stare grew more intense.
‘Francesca Normtin. She would understand.’
‘The dead woman from the movie theater?’
I twisted swiftly towards Cindy, grasping her arm with hurtful force. ‘I love her. She loves me. We are not working.’
The truth had finally come out as my wife’s eyes started to swell with tears. ‘She’s dead Evan.’
* * *
The movie was set to start in fifteen minutes. He wasn’t coming. He never was. I watched a young couple in front of me. I wondered how long they had been together. A few months? Years? They seemed happy, letting their arms touch near the shoulder as if that is how they always sat. I knew they felt it, each other’s touch. That’s something I always believed about lust and love, even the slightest touch can fuel one. We may not act on it, but it never leaves. You wouldn’t want it to.