"Has Marie been sick or something?" he said, striking up conversation as he strolled into the breakfast area, peeling the paper wrapper off a muffin.
"I gave her a few days off," Greta said. "She'll be back this afternoon."
"How come the time off?" Matthew said, without much interest. He ate his muffin and pulled apart the newspaper, folded it on the table, scanned the page, then glanced across it to his wife.
"I didn't want her around. I wanted to be alone."
He nodded, as if respecting her wish for privacy, then started reading yet another article reporting yesterday's Wallaby and ICP New York City announcement.
"Matthew," Greta said abruptly.
"Hmm?" he replied, his eyes never leaving the article.
"We need to talk."
He looked up distractedly for a moment at his wife, then returned
his attention to the newspaper. "Okay. Do we have yesterday's
'Examiner'?" He looked around the room. "I couldn't find one in
New York."
"Over there. Next to the sofa," she said, indicating the pile of papers in the sitting room. He went to the stack and picked up the topmost issue and sat down on the sofa. "What were you saying?"