M Y husband eats with a good appetite. But I don’t think he’s really hungry. He chews, arms on the table, and stares at something across the room. He looks at me and looks away. He wipes his mouth on the napkin. He shrugs, and goes on eating.
"What are you staring at me for?" he says. "What is it?" he says and lays down his fork.
"Was I staring?" I say, and shake my head. The telephone rings.
"Don’t answer it," he says.
"It might be your mother," I say.
"Watch and see," he says.
I pick up the receiver and listen. My husband stops eating.