And then she fell silent, too silent, and we just stared into the dark, into the abyss of the lake, nursing our glasses of Avalon Cabernet Sauvignon over the remains of the meal, listening to the fish jump.
“Okay, so you’ve told me about art school and your sojourns as first a groupie and then an escort; you’ve told me about the liaisons—the bad boys and married men and power brokers and political figures; all of whom shall remain nameless; but what you haven’t told me—what you haven’t even come close to telling me—is the one thing I actually want to know, which is a simple, clean, economically-unpacked: why?”
She looked at me pensively, thoughtfully, before shifting her focus to the sky and the Aurora Borealis-like lights, which had been omnipresent since the Flashback. “The short answe
