You’re like that hotel, vacant and frumpy, I tell her. She appears hurt. You’re like that, she says. Pointing to a dead bug on the sidewalk.

Is there a line between necessary and annoying? It’s not a good thing that I’m thinking about this. But I do. I think about it all the time.

She says, He doesn’t move his arms when he walks. This bugs her. Later he brings her flowers. There’s something I have to tell you, he says.