VOICES
"Morgan? Do you love me?"
He rolled away from her and onto his back, stared at the ceiling. The blanket was keeping him warm.
"I don't know." He was not sure, only that he had never felt this way before. Maybe once, long ago, as a child.
"Because I love you."
"How can you?" Now that the rush of sexual elation was over he felt wounded, and as hollow and empty as a man can feel.
"I don't know. But I do."
He took her hand and held it, against his leg. The motion was mechanical, without feeling.
"You sure it isn't something Freudian?"
"Don't be stupid, Morgan."