They had fought each other to the ground emotionally. They had gone to the bitter end of nervous fatigue in trying to penetrate the mystery that bound them to each other and refused them ease or peace. They had gone through the acts of love in her apartment like two animals goaded by unseen tormenters who prodded them with burning stakes. They had walked the streets in March at two, three, and four o'clock in the morning like condemned sinners hunting for some church that didn't exist. They had sat among the early risers of the city in dirty coffee shops at dawn, reciting to each other every detail of the past--as if by the tremendous effort of looking at it all again they might discover the one tiny point at which everything had begun to go wrong.
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