“Baby, what’s wrong? Is your back acting up again?” I looked at him and then our mutual friend Chris before my gaze fell to my lap. “I’m fin.... Just a little tired and so fucking sick of this boat,” I said in my whiniest, most demanding tone. He was very much accustomed to this tone. He heard it every day. “Natty, please. You wanted this weekend as much as I did … as much as we all did.” I silently relived the conversation I had shared with my husband Robert the night before. He’s right, I. With a bag that would not be quiet, giving my position away like ringing funeral bells as I ran. I ran till I had to turn in another direction, and then would I run some more. All around me, lights, dogs, the long shadows of uniformed men. I was a rat in a fucking maze of marble and the more I gasped for air, the more I knew I was going to be caught. Red-fuckin’-handed at that! No. No, I’m not going to be that dumb. Turning towards the distant corner, I sprinted to a stone crypt that I had been. More

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