I’m really not that kind of person.” “Except you must be, or else you wouldn’t have.” “I just wanted to be with him so much.” “I assume you don’t walk into someone else’s house and take a painting off a wall, no matter how much you might want it. So why is it okay to take someone else’s husband?” Vera’s expression turned earnest and thoughtful. “A piece of art doesn’t consent, but a husband does,” she said as if we were debating ideas in ethics class. “Not only does he consent, he often instigates. If a painting flung itself out a window and into my arms, am I really stealing it?” Touché. Vera stared at the rug. “I was married a long time ago but it didn’t last long. I met a few men along the way. Nothing ever stuck. And then I was alone for so long, I didn’t even know how lonely I was until I met Frank.” She glanced my way, looking for my approval the way my interview subjects always do. Only this time I sat in expressionless silence. “I just fell for him so quickly that before I knew it, well, we had crossed a line.
