ABSTRACT
The day before I left for Berlin, I woke in my narrow bed, having left years ago the milk and urine-soaked blankets to which three young sons had crept, tangled in and around a balled-up marriage. Down the hardwood hall, my husband curled into the sigh of the king-sized water bed. I had never smelled the smooth face or the cross seams of the new quilt in which he lay.
