Almost a week.

When will you be home?

Steve looked through the dark to the window, then closed his eyes. He
yawned and tried to sound tired. Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, he
said.

Almost a week, she said.

Maybe, yes.

Steve listened to the loud voices and laughter in the street below. The
pubs were turning out again and people were making their way
home.

She going?

Steve didn't move. He let the question settle in the air. He didn't
know what to say.

Who? he said. He could feel her next to him and she was rigid, not
moving. She didn't say a word and the way she was Steve knew she had
her eyes open.

I think so, he said, probably.

There was a pause and then she turned over, with her back to him now.
Steve could only hear her breathing.

You going to screw her?

He looked over to the window, but it was too dark to see anything
clearly.

Don't be silly, he said.