and eleven baths. That’s how long Sara had been living with him. But who was counting? Adam was, ever since the day Roman walked in on one of those baths Adam liked too much, though it was innocent enough. His body could not be blamed for ‘warming up’ to the experience. But Roman had read Adam as clearly as today’s newspaper and knew exactly what the experience did to him. Which reminded Adam that his time with Sara, his baths, must come to an end before he began to like having her around, if that were possible. Or was it already too late? When Roman came in on that bath, Sara had been washing his chest. And with his eyes closed, Adam had been imagining a different caress, but Roman’s cough opened Adam’s eyes wider than was comfortable as he regarded Roman’s grin. Roman knowing something that no one else did was dangerous, and always temporary; everybody knew it. “Ya,” Roman had said with a hearty chuckle. “Way more alive. Chores are done,’” he’d added, whistling his way back outside.
