As he lay on his back again, she shifted to rest her head on his chest. She could feel how nervous it made him whenever she violated the safe space between them. He would go quiet and very still, trembling, like a baby cottontail caught in the open. Fear: She could hear it in his heartbeat. In some ways, perversely, she fed upon it. She had felt so helpless for so long it was wonderful to make him go still and quiet just by touching his hand, looking too intensely into his eyes, or standing too close. How good they had been, not kissing again after that first time. Lew haunted them. For her it was a raw feeling, her nerves like ragged tendrils extending out into the world of derelict men, into roadside ditches, railway culverts, and darkened doorways. Each night as she slipped into sleep, Lew got into her bed, a feeling so vivid she was sure, in some other life, a parallel life where whatever happened to Roh that night hadn’t happened, he was her beloved. Of course Baby had shifted her center. There were many who would say Baby should be her center. He wasn’t, though. He was another person whom she loved, but he was not sufficient to her life—no more the hub of the universe than she was. He was to be cared for, indulged even. She would be his solace and refuge but never his husk.

With a nervous hand, Raj now combed her hair behind her ear and neck. How brave—she smiled—to defy her, provoke her. Wielding this smile, she looked up into his face. She knew that like her he was not quite human: a complex semblance. One may as well kiss a mirror. With this in mind she did, almost as an empirical act, what she had promised herself not to do again. Stretching up, she kissed him. But the experiment failed. He didn’t feel in the least like a mirror. All at once they became quick, pressing themselves as hard as they could into each other as they kissed. She could feel his body responding; he was, after all, just a young man. From somewhere a door banged. She pulled away and sat up, her hand against his chest. He lay still, as if pinned, breathing hard.

No more sounds came. She looked down at him. There was nothing to be said about what had just happened. After a few moments, he got up, said he should go, and did.

Annie fell asleep reading in bed. At close to four in the morning, Baby woke. As she was feeding him, she heard the front door to the store rattle—the wind, perhaps. Moments later she heard the back door open and shut. Except for the office, she never bothered to lock the doors. Her whole body went numb with fear as someone began to ascend the creaking stairs to the apartment. With a rush of panic, she realized she should get up and lock her door, but it was too late. It opened. It was too dark near the entrance to make out more than a tall figure. She became aware that she had wrapped her arms around Baby, who was still feeding, and then realized she was bare-breasted. She wanted to scream, but nothing would come out of her throat. It was all she could do to pull the sheet up to cover herself.