And she put down the phone, and drew the blinds.
But A said, “No. I’m afraid. Not of you, but of the moon. Or of you and the moon when you and the moon are together.”
I wanted to walk farther, so, stopping in front of the building in which was the apartment I shared with A, I brought out my phone, dialed our number, and said, when she answered, “Come outside. The moon is full. We can walk a while in the park.”
There was the moon, rising behind a tree.
A TV was on in the corner of the bar. The sound was off. But after watching it a few minutes I could tell what the show was about. A woman was leaving a man who loved her. Or she was promising him she would return, even though she was leaving him for now.