I saw Lucille looking me over, studying me carefully.
“You’re not tight, are you?”
I said, “Whenever I get my hands on the steering wheel of an automobile I sober up.”
“But you can feel the stuff sloshing around inside of you, can’t you?”
“Sure.”
“That’s a’ right, then,” she said, and settled down with her head on my shoulder.
We went out the freeway and hit the Valley Boulevard. “Slow down,” Lucille said sharply.
“Why?”
“I’m lonesome.”
I slowed down.