She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. "We work together no more. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. ’ ‘Indeed? Interesting. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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