On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light. Her desires were not for riches. She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. ’ He reddened a little, and shuffled his feet. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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