“Where did you go?”
“Upstairs. To get my glasses.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“I’m not telling a joke.”
They looked at each other, him in the doorway with his glasses in his hand, and she on the armchair with grey shadows carved beneath her eyes.
“You’ve been gone for three days.”
‘I’ve been gone for three minutes!”
They both felt the rush of panic. No matter how they looked at it, one of their brains was playing tricks on them.
She thought it was him. He thought it was her.
The doctors knew it was both of them.
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