Imagine it, he said, your tongue encountering a perfect, perfect bit of cheese, or a drop of thirty-year-old red wine, or a most passionate pair of lips. None of these could be easily put into words. These secrets are almost sinful ecstasies for the senses. He said words disappointed him, the way they betrayed sensation. But he believed she understood what he meant, a secret between the two of them. Just like the secret between the tongue and the grape, the wine, and the lips.

Without knowing how it happened, she logged off and walked into the bedroom. Glen was still reading his students’ book reports on his laptop, looking peaceful in the lamplight. A clump of gray-white hair drooped over his temple, and his face was distinctly outlined. He hugged her and kissed her ear. This was all familiar, comfortable and numb. She didn’t know why she took his hand and placed it on her breast. Glen made love to her the way he hadn’t in a long time.

Afterward, he said, “Are you all right?” He sounded worried.

She was full of guilt. If Glen had said nothing, he wouldn’t be Glen. How could she have sunk so low? Her body had run off, miles away.

She didn’t sleep that night and got up at five in the morning to write the emailer a message. She thanked him for showing up and making the feelings she thought she’d lost come back again. He’d opened her up, body and soul. But this was going too far, and she was scared. She couldn’t get hooked on this drug. She would be even more grateful if he could vanish.

After breakfast, she saw his reply, asking if she planned to change her email address.

She avoided the question and said she hoped this would be the last message she’d get from him. He said that no matter what, he’d frequently watch her walk across the lawn. She said nothing but pressed down hard on the keyboard to exit the browser. She had a class that afternoon and picked up her books and notebook, returning to the living room. Glen had headed out at some point, leaving lunch for her—a convenience-store sandwich. She pulled back the plastic film and saw a pale pink slice of ham between two dark slices of bread, like a wound gaping open.

As Hongmei was walking across the lawn, she stopped. She looked all around, then turned her gaze back to the top of their sixteen-story building, the highest point on campus. A place where you could see everyone and everything.