“Hello again,” Gershwin said. He was opening a bottle of wine.
Harold walked in a circle, taking everything in. Gershwin looked at the footprints appearing and fading behind him and then at Lilly in a way she fully understood. He was saying, “You see?” with his eyes.
Harold began another circle, this time much wider, and stopped in front of the washing machine and dryer. “Sure beats the laundromat,” he said.
“Perhaps you should visit it this millennium,” Gershwin said under his breath, but loud enough for Lilly, who was standing a few feet from him, to hear.
Harold walked over to the mahogany desk, like he was moving between exhibits in a museum. He said, “Mine is Arborite. Would you like to trade?”
When he got to the long table in the dining area, he said, “I could have brought twelv
