It was then that my gaze happened to fall on the bookcase, on the gap there, where the old paperback of "Nine Stories" had fallen flat. "Where's the thing?" I said. "What thing?" "The mesh. My ." She shrugged. "I tossed it." "Tossed it? Where? What do you mean?" In the next moment I was in the kitchen, flipping open the lid of the trash can, only to find it empty. "You mean outside?" I shouted. "In the dumpster?" When I came thundering back into the room, she still hadn't moved. "Jesus, what were you thinking? That was mine. I wanted that. I wanted to keep it." Her lips barely moved. "It was dirty."
( T.C. Boyle )
[ Stories II: The Collected ]
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