“I tried again.”
I set the photograph down before my hands could bend it.
“So you didn’t match with me by chance.”
“No.”
I looked at the photographs in the box.
Then at Arthur.
“Why?”
“So you didn’t match with me by chance.”
“My wife struggled with her appearance,” he explained. “She told me how cruel beauty advertisements had been when she was young.”
Arthur smoothed one curled corner of the consultation card.
“After she died, I began thinking about the work I’d done. The things I’d said. The things I hadn’t said.”
“My wife struggled with her appearance.”
“And you decided to find me?”
“I wanted to apologize. At first, I thought I’d tell you immediately,” he said. “But I enjoyed talking to you. I was afraid you’d never speak to me again.”
“So you dated me instead?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
His face reddened.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
