I pointed to the bathroom, and in a display of diffidence Carolyn retreated further into the duvet, pulling it to her nose while watching me through the tops of her eyes. She looked kittenish and I could tell that she was smiling, and with the bottom half of her face covered, she appeared far more beautiful than she really was. Her eyes were truly stunning, and I was happy she was awake just so I could have the pleasure of seeing them. But what I had failed to realize the night before was just what made them so striking. It was the way she looked at me, her intense gaze creating the sensation of what photographers call depth of field; I felt I was standing sharp at the forefront while everything around me blurred away or was blacked out entirely. It was as though, in her eyes, everything else existed only as an afterthought. This I liked very much.

I gathered her clothes and lay them on the bed for her. They smelled of the bar. She sorted through and lifted her jeans and her shirt.

“Do you see my underwear?”

“Were you wearing underwear?”

She rolled her eyes.

I feigned confusion, crinkled my brow, and looked at the floor. “I don’t see them,” I said, and then I got down on my knees and peered beneath the bed. “Aha,” I added, creating an excuse to crawl completely beneath it (which I could barely do) to get them out of my pocket without her noticing. “Here they are.”

I handed them up and she looked at them forlornly.

“Do you want something of mine instead?”

She nodded, and in her shyness she seemed about ten years younger than she really was. I removed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from my clothes pile and turned my back to give her the privacy to dress. She walked to the bathroom. I could hear the tinkle as she used the toilet and I turned on the kitchen faucet to drown it out. I started frying bacon. Carolyn walked out and sat on the edge of the bed watching me. I handed her the cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she said.

The sweatpants were too large and the cuffs hung over her feet and dragged along the hardwood floor, which I found endearing. She kept silent, and her coyness started to make me a little uncomfortable. I focused on breakfast, giving the appearance of concentration where little was needed as though I was silent because our meal depended on it and not because I wasn’t sure of what to say. The trains went by, the world outside gray and white while the snow continued to fall. When I finished cooking I handed Carolyn a plate and took my own and sat at the desk while she stayed on the bed.

“I’m getting a table soon,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about the apartment’s lack of furnishings.