“Olivia lit a cigarette and said, "God, if I worried about running into old boyfriends, I couldn't go anywhere!”

“Don't worry about me," I finally said. "Really. I'm more worried about you." And even more worried about where Graves is."Are you?" A fey smile lit his face, and I caught my breath. It was a shock to see him look so happy. "Well, then.”

“I watched that plant in the office every day.Watered it; misted it. I loved thinking about it like G.T. said, but part of me was worried the tree surgery wouldn't take. Something would go wrong and then I"d be stuck with a metaphor that couldn't go the distance.”

“and so when I couldn't stand it no longer, I lit out. I got into my old rags and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied.”

“Not Really," he said then lit a cigarette and handed it to me. I inhaled. Coughed. Wheezed. Gasped for breath. Coughed again. Considered vomiting. Grabbed the swinging bench, head spinning, and threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, convinced my Great Perhaps did not involve cigarettes.”

“Everything about this evening is both exquisite and bewildering and I can't decide if I want to go on with this dream or run back down the yellow-lit rock to the stable. But the stable door is closed.”