She is beside me, drenched in sweat. She’s breathing gently, long slow breaths. I imagine her soul going in and out: wanting to leave, wanting to come back, wanting to leave, wanting to come back. The day will soon harden into what we need to do. But for now we have each other. We run a bath. In the faint phosphorescent light of the storm we submerge ourselves to our necks and our legs intertwine. Nothing could ever be this close. Everything is the best, or else, “I can’t go on living like this. Oh God, it’s all such a mess.” We stroke each other softly and feel entirely dislocated from the earth, which has never existed.