|Photo from apartmenttherapy.com|
However, in MY studio, in a drawer of quite fine papers, envelopes, valuable resource materials, I found what follows, the beginning of something. Does that happen in an orderly space, where the location of everything is known, the treasure hunt is over, there are no discoveries to be made? I think not.
David was smiling the foolish, open-mouthed, lip-twitching smile that reminded Gloria of a dog sticking his head out a car window. She imagined she could hear him panting, the rapid, shallow breathing making his heart beat faster. David even blinked, as though the rushing air caught him by surprise.
When he smiled like that, she usually started picking on him about something, like forgetting to bring health insurance forms home from work or leaving the butter out all day. It didn't seem to her appropriate to scream, "I hate it when you smile like that." If she had, he would just blink more rapidly, shake his head and ask, "What are you talking about?"