"You're lost to me ... you've drifted away ... where were you?" she objected.
"I was thinking of a trip with you ... Switzerland ... look, look there's a wad of hay in your belly button." And he crumpled some hay and filled her button.
"Love you ... love you ... love you!" she exclaimed.
Queer, he thought, queer about Lena, about us. We used to have fun. Did a lot of wacky things. At school together ... played ... sang together.
"How long will you be with me, Orv?"
The question troubled him.
"Two more days," he said. "Almost two days..."
"I didn't want to ask ... but..."
She avoided his eyes--faced the extensive field.
She felt herself fall away from him, fall through the present, parachute into far, nobody left, only the wounded, her drab quarters in the hospital: wash basin, neglected walls, dirty windows, cracked door, outworn throw rug.