I don’t want you to be sad. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. Until she had left her island, what she heard and what she saw were truths.
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