I could hear Hope outside, talking to a man. I couldn’t make out the words, just the low rumble of his voice, along with the sound of his laugh. Wasn’t there a handsome widower in the neighborhood? There used to be. Seemed like there was another one now. I wondered if he was attracted to Hope, and vice versa. Wouldn’t that be something, if sparks flew between them? Those man-woman sparks. Oh my, how powerful they could be! Astonishing, really, how much energy those sparks consumed, considering how little time, in the big scheme of things, people spent actually making love. But oh, how it colors everything—and how strong that pull can be! Stronger than the need for food or sleep, back in the day. Stronger, even, than my need to sleep now, which seems to constantly pull at me like a deadweight. Best not to think about dead, I tell myself. Although, now that I know the dead are floating, the concept of a deadweight doesn’t really apply.
