The four words travel the great distance to the exotic place she visits. There and here she opens a single eye, it darts about, wicking away its foamy regenerative glaze. Her open eye settles on the man and his new shoewear. “You’re home,” she thinks, too fullmouthed to talk aloud. Then she unhinges and gravity sucks the French girl to the floor with an unromantic thud.
“What have you done!”