I looked at him from the corner of my eye, the way you look at someone you love far more than you’re prepared to admit. He looked tired. I was wide awake but pretended I had to yawn.

“It’s very late,” I said. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.”

“Do that,” Frederik said, and I went to brush my teeth. Then I came back and sat next to him.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth, too, then,” he said.

“Yes, do that,” I said, and went into the kitchen, where Alaska had already curled up on his blanket under the table. I stuck his evening pill in a ball of liverwurst, put it in front of him, went back, and sat down next to Frederik.

“What’s wrong with him, actually?” he asked.

“Hyperthyroidism and osteoporosis,” I said.

I thought about what else to do.

“I’m going to give Selma a quick call to ask if it’s still raining so hard.”

“Yes, do that,” Frederik said.

How can anyone be so beautiful? I wondered, and I thought about the importance of nonaction in Buddhism.

“You know, what I’m doing this whole time is not kissing you,” I said, standing up quickly to go to the telephone. Frederik grabbed my wrist.

“I can’t anymore,” he said, putting his hand on the back of my neck and pulling my face toward him. “This has got to end at some point.”

And so it began. Frederik kissed me and I kissed Frederik as if we’d been invented precisely for this.

Frederik pulled his robe over his head like a sweater that was much too long and then he started unbuttoning Selma’s dress.

He undid the buttons with intense concentration, as if future generations could learn valuable lessons from this method of unbuttoning. It took an enormously long time, as if Frederik were unbuttoning the entire stretch between Germany and Japan, and this gave the blank my mind was drawing time to settle down comfortably next to us. Because of the blank, I thought of how I’d never stood quite so naked as I would soon stand before Frederik as soon as he’d unbuttoned the entire stretch. I also thought about how I’d always made sure that my nakedness was unlit and covered with a blanket, for good reason, I thought, but luckily I also thought about how things can disappear when you acknowledge them.

“I’m not half as beautiful as you are,” I said.

Frederik had undone the last button. The button at the very bottom of Selma’s dress. He stood up and slipped the dress from my shoulders.

“You’re three times as beautiful,” he said, then lifted me up and laid me on the bed. My blank stayed where it was on the windowsill.