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"
Why
?
"
She
shrugged
.
"
I
like
you
.
I
don
t
know
.
Leroy
might
come
back
.
Lots
of
reasons
.
If
you
don
t
want
me
to
.
.
.
"
She
caught
me
off
guard
again
.
I
might
have
found
a
dozen
excuses
to
get
rid
of
her
,
but
I
gave
in
.
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"
Got
any
gin
?
"
she
asked
.
"
No
,
I
don
t
drink
much
.
"
"
I
ve
got
some
in
my
place
.
I
ll
bring
it
over
.
"
Before
I
could
stop
her
she
was
out
the
window
and
a
few
minutes
later
she
returned
with
a
bottle
about
two
-
thirds
full
,
and
a
lemon
.
She
took
two
glasses
from
my
kitchen
and
poured
some
gin
into
each
.
"
Here
,
"
she
said
,
"
this
ll
make
you
feel
better
.
It
ll
take
the
starch
out
of
those
straight
lines
.
That
s
what
s
bugging
you
.
Everything
is
too
neat
and
straight
and
you
re
all
boxed
in
.
Like
Algernon
in
bis
sculpture
there
.
"
I
wasn
t
going
to
at
first
,
but
I
felt
so
lousy
that
I
fig
­
ured
why
not
.
It
couldn
t
make
things
any
worse
,
and
it
might
possibly
dull
the
feeling
that
I
was
watching
myself
through
eyes
that
didn
t
understand
what
I
was
doing
.
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She
got
me
drunk
.
I
remember
the
first
drink
,
and
getting
into
bed
,
and
her
slipping
in
beside
me
with
the
bottle
in
her
hand
.
And
that
was
all
until
this
afternoon
when
I
got
up
with
a
hangover
.
She
was
still
asleep
,
face
to
the
wall
,
her
pillow
bunched
up
under
her
neck
.