“I kiss her back. Because. . .well, she’s so present. So alive. So magnanimous. And when she is kissing me, all the death of the last week disappears.”
“And after that?” I ask, back in my chair with my jeans sticking to me.
“Well-” He turns toward one of the Secret Service men.
The man nods.
“Back to one hundred words a day?” I say.
“Actually, Dr. McClellan -and I’m telling you this in strict confidence, understand?- actually, we’ll be increasing the quota at some point in the future. Once everything gets back on course.”
Well, this is new. I wait to see what other confidential tidbits he’s got up his sleeve.