She did not move; her lips were slightly parted, hair thickly curling along her cheeks, her body hunched under the coat. She looked down, sighed deeply, turned away, then stood there with her back turned. I held the beam of the flashlight on the floor and reflected light paled the room, the old furniture, the fallen draperies. “Noraine,” I said, “go away. Go to a place where people know you and settle down.” “Where are you going to stay?” she asked. “Right here.” She turned and looked at me. “What about us?” I just looked at her. “Al—you don’t belong here. Don’t you know that?” “No.” “You’re crowding something that doesn’t exist,” she said. “You’re pushing too hard—you always did.” “Will you leave me alone?” I said. “Sure.” She turned and walked over to the hall, little spurts of dust rising from the carpet under her heels. She paused and looked back at me, not smiling. “I’m not leaving town, if that’s what you mean. I’m staying, Al—”
