It was then that my gaze happened to fall on the bookcase, on the gap there, where the old paperback of Nine Stories had fallen flat. Where's the thing? I said. What thing? The mesh. My . She shrugged. I tossed it. Tossed it? Where? What do you mean? In the next moment I was in the kitchen, flipping open the lid of the trash can, only to find it empty. You mean outside? I shouted. In the dumpster? When I came thundering back into the room, she still hadn't moved. Jesus, what were you thinking? That was mine. I wanted that. I wanted to keep it. Her lips barely moved. It was dirty.