On good mornings--ones where he worked out some tricky problem or come up with some new idea--his passion for me and the invention seemed intertwined....He would work through the afternoon, playful in the way he spoke to me, and keep me in his apartment late after work. On mornings where he was unhappy with his progress, he scolded me for some misdemeanor all afternoon and left me to myself in the evenings. It took me that whole first six weeks to have a system for everything: his appointments,. Small details, yes, but details that gave away his position in the world, nonetheless. His dark brown hair, cut quite short but obviously by someone other than the barber at the corner shop, was greying at the temples, lending him an air of wearied worldliness. She watched carefully as he ordered a Glenlivet double, neat. “Glenlivet, eh?” she said, sliding onto the stool next to him. “Twelve or eighteen?” He looked up, surprised by this sudden apparition of a woman next to him. “Eighteen, may I. More

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