The diagram was of a fetus at term.
"What was that about your mother?" Len asked, puzzled.
"Don't be silly," she said abstractedly.
He waited, but she didn't look up or turn the page. After a while, he went back to his work. He watched her.
Eventually she leafed through to the back of the book, read a few pages, and put it down. She lighted a cigarette and immediately put it out again. She fetched up a belch.
"That was a good one," said Len admiringly.
Moira sighed.
Feeling tense, Len picked up his coffee cup and started toward the kitchen. He halted beside Moira's chair. On the side table was her after-dinner cup, still full of coffee ... black, scummed with oil droplets, stone-cold.
"Didn't you want your coffee?" he asked solicitously.
She looked at the cup. "I did, but—" She paused and shook her head, looking perplexed.