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Back in their apartment, Samantha nestled down among the cushions on the settee. It was her soft haven in this stark place she so regretted renting. Andy drew the blinds precisely and switched the television on. Samantha covered her eyes against the glare of the huge screen. "Please, turn that down," she said.
Andy muted the sound. He seemed more interested in images than noise anyway. Samantha covered her eyes with a pillow.
"Andy, if you could be anywhere, or do anything, what would it be?" she asked.
"Sorry?" But she knew he’d heard and eventually he said, "I don't know."
The faint clicking as Andy flitted through channels irritated her, especially as he was avoiding her question. Samantha wanted to tell him he was too close to the screen but wasn't sure what’s wrong with that. "Aren't you going to ask me?" she said.
"I don't think I want to. You make me nervous when you're like this."
"Don't be."
"OK, what's your answer?" he said and turned off the television.
"I don't know either." Samantha took the pillow from her eyes and fixed him resolutely. "And I don't care, as long as I'm with you."
"Really?" Andy gazed at her. He looked delighted.
"Of course." She held up her arms, and he came to stroke her cheek. She moved into the caress like a cat. "Let's go to bed. Now."