24 November 2021: Listened to this story this afternoon while water-sealing the fence (finally) and taking my walk. Been thinking about it ever since--the last paragraph especially, since in their discussion, Treisman and Patchett sort of disagreed about how to read the final lines. Relating perhaps (ha) a bit too much, I find myself fully ambivalent.
"In answer, she drew him close, to kiss the bride. William buried his hands in her curls, at the base of her neck, and felt her long-desired body press against him. Her soft mouth against his. The gingery smell. He thought he might weep with the relief of it, with the release of all the years of waiting, the intermittent periods of suppressed grief. Equal affection. Was this it? It didn’t have to be exactly equal. He would take anything close."
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