"It's an old building," Becky said, when Peter asked her. "Do you get them in your apartment, too?" She'd given him a look, then, as if she thought he was trying to score an invite into her place, as ... [+]
Dapper in a topcoat and tails, feet moving fast and graceful as birds skimming still waters, he whirled and swooped, catching my mother, still young and slim, by the waist, bending her backward. She laughed, lips parted, mouth open, teeth even and gleaming. Light tangoed down her black curls. He woke, his limbs lifeless. He could no more have moved them than stopped the sun in its arc across the sky. He could not even raise his hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes. My mother sat by his side, watching, waiting. Her hair was grey, her face lined as a skinned week-old apple. In her hand was an en