She kisses me behind an earlobe, then rests her forehead on my shoulder. It comforts me that despite all of her loving and grieving of other men, this gesture hasn’t changed. The animal smell of her also hasn’t changed, and it has the same animal effect on me.

“Let me stay tonight,” I say.

“I can’t,” she says.

As I lie in bed with the leather journal propped against my thighs, I keep watch over the light from her window reflecting off the side of the building. When it goes dark, I feel a sense of loss. I mull upon what she looks like as she sleeps, if she still composes her face in the same way. I try writing a paragraph of the novel.

“He couldn’t stand the sound of her blowing bubbles with her bubble gum. He was trying to study, and with each irritating pop! he was reminded of her in that long pajama shirt and maybe no underwear underneath in the next bedroom. He decided he would give her five more pops before he went over there and did something. On the fifth, he sat at the edge of her bed, parted her lips, and pulled the gum from her mouth. However, the ensuing silence was even more distracting. He no longer knew what she was doing on the other side of the wall.”

It’s no good. Like Seung Hun says, it’s stupid. What I want to express is how we had been in love for weeks and that when I took the gum from Maddy’s mouth, I did so with the utmost tenderness. Neither of us had thought much of the other when we were introduced by our parents. But with the gradual accumulation of days, I came to realize she was going to be important. Back in my own room, I put her warm gum in my mouth and thought of us together in a not-insignificant number of indecent positions. I can’t write any of this, however, without explaining too much. If only I could establish the right narrative distance, I know I could finish this novel. I share similar feelings when it comes to Maddy—if only I could establish the right distance from her, she would let me back in her bed.

The next day, I sleep until two—well past the morning feedings and snacks. I’m walking through the ruins when I hear laughter down at the beach. Maddy and Jørgen are frolicking like horny sea ponies in the water. There are splashes and giggles galore. From time to time, Maddy will pause and pull up the bikini top struggling to support her new ampleness, and that’s when Jørgen will swoop in and brush the hair from her face or slap her on the butt or in general remind her that he has a penis. Eventually, I notice that Reginald, bedecked in a withered pair of swim trunks, is here, too, observing them intently from a towel. As I make my way toward him, a piece of glass wedges itself in my big toe.