“I do it. By golly, I go.”
Los Angeles wasn’t but twenty miles away, but he shined himself up like he was going to Paris, and right after lunch, he went. Soon as he was gone, I locked the front door. I picked up a plate that a guy had left, and went on back in the kitchen with it. She was there.
“Here’s a plate that was out there.”
“Oh, thanks.”
I set it down. The fork was rattling like a tambourine.
“I was going to go, but I started some things cooking and I thought I better not.”
“I got plenty to do, myself.”
“You feeling better?”
“I’m all right.”
“Sometimes just some little thing will do it. Like a change of water, something like that.”