Holding the coin in place with a free finger, she leans in to get a better look. Her reading glasses have to be adjusted this way and that because of the mirror’s glare, but that’s to be expected. This entire undertaking is new to her and a degree of improvisation is not only required but is to be expected. Yet from the outside, it is impossible to tell. Yes. It could be that a nickel has been the culprit, and for this she is most relieved. Or, at least, very relieved. “Most” relieved would only be possible with a clean bill of moral health for her spouse, and this she cannot provide. Not yet. Not at this time.

He’ll be home soon, of course. She knows this, sitting perched on the edge of the toilet seat. A wooden toilet seat, actually, one that he’d spotted in a SkyMall catalog during one of his many plane trips across the country. Or perhaps on his way to Europe. Short bursts of travel that come up without notice and with only the tiniest look of betrayal in his eyes. Dancing somewhere within his pupils. “I’m going but I really don’t have to. They don’t require it, but I want to. I’d like to do it. I offered to, in fact.” This is what she always dreams of on the evening that he leaves. Not of palm tree beaches or missed office parties or even that he is falling into the arms of some younger siren, no. It is simply the nightmare of loss. A Cassandra-like vision of the here and now, a vision that says, “Yes, my dear, it’s true. He’d rather be anywhere but here with you.” He’d seen it, this toilet fixture on which she finds herself, on page 37 and had called the 1-800 number from his business class seat with the magazine open on his lap. He’d liked it that much, this throwback to a different era. Back in the day when the bathroom was not connected to the house, or at least the house proper. It had come by FedEx and been waiting for him when he returned. He came back from Cologne with a box of Godiva chocolates for her (the smaller box, like the ones they sell in Lord & Taylor now) and had gone straight down the hallway with the wooden seat cradled under one arm. Dropped his bags in the bedroom and installed it himself. And was the first to use it, as well. And now here she sits on it, staring at his wallet and wondering. Wondering just what the answer may be. The answer to the puzzle that is this circle. This infernal circle on his coin pocket that carries with it the power to change the world. Her world, at least.