Something, and I saw...the way the street curves...I could see...I watched you...until I just had to do something." Her face turned even brighter red....You can see into my house from here?" I asked puzzled. She stood up and beckoned me to follow her. We walked into her bedroom, and she gestured to the big bay window overlooking her front yard. I stood in front of the window and saw that with the way the street curved her bedroom window had a straight line of sight into my front door. I realized. I even hadto fish it out of the spam folder myself and mark it unread. You'd knowit was fake, but of course Mom believed it." Their mother, as she wouldbe the first to admit, was generally incompetent with technology andhad previously needed her children to avoid getting suckered; they'deven talked her out of sending money to a Nigerian prince a coupleyears ago. She had zero concept of computer security and wasn't good atkeeping track of her phone. "I bet she still has it in her. There were times when he wanted nothing more than to reach out to that crescent face, to the discolored bruises like plums, and stroke them softly away, to trace the delicate lines of her face, her cheeks and eyebrows and little button nose, and riffle through her coarse blonde hair, and sweep all tears away and rain down on them kisses, and she would see that he loved her in a way no one else did, and love him too. There were times when it was more than he could bear. ‘Shouldn’t I do. It was a Tuesday and I was staying at the Radisson Hotel near the river and, after a day of calling on customers, was enjoying a refreshing gin and tonic in the hotel bar and looking forward to returning home on Friday to my wife of eighteen years, still as attractive as when we first met, even if, as happens to most, I suppose, our sex life had tapered off some over the years. It was good, really, just, well, not what it was in the beginning. I was making some notes into my laptop as I sat at.