Someone rapped on Ann's window: a cop.
--This is a no-parking zone, ma'am, he said, when she rolled down the glass.
--I'm sorry, I was just waiting--
--Fine, but you just want to pull up and around the corner there. You see? Right there, across from the mailbox.
--Sure. OK. I'll pull up.
--And you sir, you been wearing your seatbelt?
--What business--
--He was just relaxing while we waited for--
--Make sure you do.
the cop slapped the roof of the car and she pulled around the corner.
--I thought we beat the fascists, said Oppenheimer.
--Well, it's all for--we know some things about public health we didn't know then, said Ann. --Statistics--
--It wasn't him, burst out Szilard, sliding into his seat again. --It looked like him but it wasn't. I had the feeling it was just the three of us here, but I wanted to make sure. Why'd you move the car? I thought I'd lost you.
--We were fugitives on the lam, said Oppenheimer. --The law was after us.
I think I'm in love.
Assuming Lydia Millet's Oh Pure and Radiant Heart doesn't tank out something hugely, I'm going to know I'm in love. I haven't felt this strongly about a book for ages. It's book three of my fifty for the year, by the by.
In other news, my story 'John Wayne (As Written by a Non-American)' has been purchased by Ben Payne (
It's a good start to the year, at any rate.