She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. She passed down the stairs and into the street. She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft. “What if you get pregnant?” His worry came to a quick fruition. But now it was all over, and Alice was getting on well. ” He ducked out.
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