have breakfast together, read the papers together, study together. Together, together, together. Song of love.

Chris was still in bed. Her sleepy "Yes?" in answer to my knock was far away, impersonal.

"It's mo. Jenny."

"Oh. Come in."

I laughed. "The door's locked! "

She opened the door and got back in bod, I stood in the doorway, all arms and legs.

"Why don't you come in?" She started to reach for her cigarettes, and I handed them to her, closing the door behind me.

"Good morning."

She looked at me, then, for the first time. "Good morning, Jenny."

I wanted to touch herher face, her throat, touch her anywhere. I stood there woodenly. Only my voice was alive. "How are you this morning?"

"Rotten. Headache. Hangover, I guess. Why don't you sit down? Cigarette?"

She lighted both our cigarettes and sank back into her pillow. "Eaten?"

"No. I was waiting for you. I thought..."

"Think I'll skip breakfast today, Jenny. Why don't you go ahead? They'll be closing the dining hall soon."

I put my hand on her arm. "I don't want to eat without you. Maybe if you ate something..."

"The thought of food sickens me."

It was beginning to sicken me, too. "Chris, what's wrong?"

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