Summoned by conscious recollection, she br would be smiling, they might be in a kitchen talking, br before or after dinner. But they are in this other room, br the window has many small panes, and they are on a couch br embracing. He holds her as tightly br as he can, she buries herself in his body. br Morning, maybe it is evening, light br is flowing through the room. Outside, br the day is slowly succeeded by night, br succeeded by day. The process wobbles wildly br and accelerates: weeks, months, years. The light in the room br does not change, so it is plain what is happening. br They are trying to become one creature, br and something will not have it. They are tender br with each other, afraid br their brief, sharp cries will reconcile them to the moment br when they fall away again. So they rub against each other, br their mouths dry, then wet, then dry. br They feel themselves at the center of a powerful br and baffled will. They feel br they are an almost animal, br washed up on the shore of a world— br or huddled against the gate of a garden— br to which they can't admit they can never be admitted.