We lie in the grass and we study the sky and imagine things bigger than we are. She says, Do you think dogs poop here? It’s a good question.

I let her finish her drink. I stood. You’re so gallant, she said, obviously drunk. I sat down again. I let out a long sigh. And she clapped.

He showed her the photo. She studied it. That’s not really you, she said. But it was him. Or how he had been. Before her. She left the room.