“He has the look of a mighty mind, whose thoughts spin hidden beneath the impassive surface.”

“You made me cut and dye my hair.”Surely he understands that we face greater problems? “I thought it would greatly improve your looks,” I snap.“Shorn hair is a sign of shame. You humiliate me greatly.”“I’ll light a candle tonight in honor of your dead tresses.”

“The mind of God is a mystery and none can understand it.”

“No, no." I motion vaguely. "Relax. Don't look so... guardlike." They drop formation at once, glancing at one another shamefaced. Hector draped an arm around my shoulder as if we were out for a companionable stroll. He leans down and says, "So. Horrible heat we've been having lately.”

“If I were an enemy, and I started bearing down on you like this," he draws his sword, stretches the tip towards me, takes a single step in my direction, "what would you do?" Possibilities race through my head. Should I look for a weapon? Dodge and come up behind his guard? Trip him? Insult his mother?”

“He doesn’t love me yet, but in this place of death, in this precious moment of shared relief, he holds me.”

“I almost panic then. The pleasure-power feeling flees, replaced by humiliation. It's obvious my husband doesn't recognize his own wife. Yet even in this public place, he can't be bothered to hide his admiration for a woman that he finds attractive. He used to stare at me so intently, like I was the only thing in the world. Have I changed so much? Or maybe that mesmerizing gaze was just a weapon in his arsenal of appeal. Maybe he never actually saw.Anger carries me the remaining distance. He is the one who should feel grimy with shame, not me.”