“I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. Little did he know that she had begged her parents as a youngster to get her a language tutor. The program was to include a Bach cantata, her favorite piece from Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade, and for the first time ever, a student composition, a Concerto, by a precociously talented fellow student named Martin Chen. I firmly believe that she is as straight as a die. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. Nasty, damp passages. He knew what he knew.
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