Written on the inside cover of a book on slavery in souther brazil

"Rich people do not have to be pretty, and pretty people do not have to be rich", he said.

She looked at him. "You´re not joking."

He remained silent.

"You pig".

The sheets lay tangled between them; he could see the white cotton digging into the small of her back. He did not stretch out his hand, to stroke the place between the shadows. She was smoking a cigarette.

"I hate it when you smoke", he said.

"I know".

In the silence, he could see the smoke curling away from her smile.

"You forgot to buy the tickets", she said.

"I´m sorry - I had to stay late for the meeting, and it was raining - I just wanted to jump into a cab."

She lauged. "Yes, you like jumping".

"We´re not five anymore."

"No, we´re six - and you´re seven."

She turned around to face him. He waited for her to put her palm on his cheek. She didn´t. He turned over.

"Aren´t you going to brush your teeth?", she asked.

"No, I´m too tired", he yawned, turning off the light.

"Well I´m going to take a shower", she said, pulling off the sheets. He did not turn around: After twenty years, he had no need to see her naked body - he would rather remember. He thought of how when he kissed her, that night at the restaurant, her lips smelled of strawberries, and how she gave him strawberries for a midnight snack, the first night that he told her he loved her. He thought of her breasts that could no longer feed a child.

"I don´t want to be a cow", she had said.

"My God - you´ve reached menopause", he had replied, even though she said nothing when he started taking Viagra - except once, when he was watching porn.

"So they turn you on", she had snarled.

"No, its not - its just a coincidence, just a one-time thing".

She laughed. "God, you could at least be honest with me".

"I´m not God".

She did not laugh. That night, lying in bed, she whispered, "Well at least won´t die alone, eaten by cats".

"I hate cats", he said, "they´re evil".

"Almost as evil as men who watch porn". He could hear the laughter crawling back into her voice.

She looked up, suddenly aware of the feel of his arms around her shoulders:

"Well?"

"God, that is like, the most depressing story I´ve ever read."

"I know, right?"

"Well, I mean - its not as depressing as Kafka. But then, no one´s as depressing as Kafka".

"I don´t know. Have you read Gravity´s Rainbow? Its pretty fucking depressing."

"I don´t read books where the characters die of e. coli."

"Then how do you know the characters die of e. coli?"

"I read it in the National Enquirer".

He laughed and turned off the light. His arms were smooth and cold, like refrigerated plum-skins. She bit in.