“Look,” said Sara. “I can hardly believe it myself, but I’m glad I’m here, Todd. You know why? Because you’re different. I don’t just mean different to the other jerks in this town—and I do mean ‘other jerks’—I mean you’re different to how you were.”

“Oh really,” said Todd. “How so?”

“Well, apart from the sparkling repartee,” said Sara dryly, “there’s a change in you. I can see it in your face.”

She looked into his eyes.

“And not just your face,” said Sara.

“No?” said Todd.

“No,” said Sara. “It’s written all over you.”

*  *  *

Sara was in the kitchen making coffee when Todd walked in. He wrapped his robe around him, vaguely noticing that the belt required more tightening than before.

“There he is,” said Sara brightly. “The great man. Does the great man want coffee?”

“Yes please,” said Todd, and almost exclaimed. It had been a long time since the “p” word had left his lips.

“Todd Milstead is at home to Mr. Manners,” said Sara. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

She handed him a mug of coffee.

“I feel different, you know,” said Todd.

“You do?” Sara said.

“Yeah,” said Todd. Maybe it’s getting laid, said the voice inside him. Todd chose to ignore it.

“A lot of things have happened lately…” he began. Like you stole someone’s book, and your own hands made you poop at your desk, and you hired a detective to follow Janis, oh, and something ate Billy, said the voice. (Todd chose to continue ignoring it.)

“I know they have,” said Sara. “But we’re going to sweep all that under the carpet for now.”

Easier said than done, said the voice.

*  *  *

That night, as they rested after what Todd reckoned was certainly the most sex, as well as the best sex, he’d ever had, he felt it was safe to ask the one question that could safely be asked.

“I hate to bring it up,” he said, “but—”

“Terry,” said Sara. “I guess you have a right to know.”

“I don’t, but thank you,” said Todd, and almost bit his lip at this latest burst of niceness.

“I came home the other night,” said Sara in the rhythmic tones of someone who had been rehearsing a speech in the car and wanted to get all the details right, “and I found Terry in the front room, packing his bags. Which was kind of odd, because nobody packs in the front room. I mean, that’s what bedrooms are for, right? That’s where the closets are.”

She stopped. “Jesus, I’m rambling already,” she said.

“Take your time,” said the new, improved, patient-like-a-saint Todd.