There’s a shudder–you hardly even notice it but–the antigodlin demise begins. Things slide askew, tumble together, and money becomes tight.
They argue and her words strike him as angry and strange, “catty-corner,” “wampus-jawed.” She describes her life, their life, as a twisted, collapsing ruin. At one point she stumbles for a word and he interjects, “Askew?”
She smiles at his word choice, the economy of it. She remembers he could always say just the right one or two words to break down her walls and tumble inside. She sighs.
The mortgage wouldn’t get paid this month. They laugh the thin laugh of the doomed and their eyes never meet.