"It won't come. You've heard what it's like out there. You know they won't make it."
"I think I've got it, too," she said. "So come here.. It doesn't matter."
They met in the center of the room, and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Don't be afraid," she said. "Don't be afraid," and he held her for a long while, and then she took his hand and said, "Come this way. Don't be afraid. They won't be home for a long time," and she led him up to her bedroom and said, "Undress me," and he did.
They moved to the bed and did not speak again until after he had ridden her for several minutes and she heard him sigh and felt the warm moisture come into her. Then she rubbed his shoulders and said, "That was good."
"Yes." He raised himself to draw away then, and his elbow collapsed. "Oh, God!" he said. "I'm so weak all of a sudden!" He rolled to his side and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He sat there and began to shake.
She draped a blanket over his shoulders and said, "You're thirsty, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I'll get you a drink."
"Thanks."
He gulped the water she brought him. His head filled with bells as he drank it. "I love you," he said, and, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was good."
Silently, he began to cry. She didn't realize it until his chest contracted about a sob, and she looked and saw that his face was wet.
"Don't cry," she said, "please..." and she wiped her eyes on a corner of the bedsheet.
"I can't help it. We're going to die."
"I'm afraid."
"So am I."
"What will it be like?"
"I don't know. Pretty bad, I guess. Don't think about it."
"I can't help it."
"I've got to lie down again. Excuse me. Do you have any other blankets?"
"I'll get some."
"... And another glass of water, please."
"Yes."
She returned and unfolded two wool blankets above him.
"That should be better."
She brought him another glass of water.
"Why should this happen to us?"
"I don't know. We're unlucky, that's all."
"You were going to kill yourself. Weren't you?"
He nodded. "I still am, as soon as I feel a little better. Ha! That sounds funny, doesn't it?"
"No. Maybe you're right, and it'll get worse from here on in."
"Stop it!"
"I can't help it. We're going to die; we know that. We might as well go as easy as possible. What were you going to do?"
"I was going to walk out on the bridge and stay there till I felt so bad that it would be worth it to go over the side."
"That's hard," she said, looking at her shadow on the wall.
"You got any better ideas?"
"No," she said, turning, so that light filtered through the venetian blinds fell upon her face and breast. Her zebra expression was indecipherable. "No."
"You sure?"
"No. I mean, maybe. My mother has some sleeping pills."
"Oh."
He stretched eight inches of blanket taut between his hands and bit down on the fabric.
"Get them," he said, "please."
"Are you sure?"
"No. But get them."
She left the room, returned after a few heartbeats with a small, dark bottle in one hand. "I have them here."
He took the bottle and stared at it. He turned it in his hand. He opened it. He removed a pill and held it in his palm, studying its contours.
"So that's it, huh?"
She nodded, biting her lip.