Most of the keys were gone from the counter and the coats gone from the bed, but the poker game lingered.
Maurice leaned forward into the table until it squeaked and shuffled. He assembled a bet.
“You know,” he said, “at a point in a man’s life he has already loved and must recapture himself anew.”
Emma dropped the cards onto the table with an unclear meaning. “When the kids go to college, this is done.”
Maurice checked. He still wasn’t hard, but once she was gone, it wouldn’t matter.
“Fold,” he mumbled, and looked for a robe. Maurice knew he was sleeping on the couch but wasn’t of a mind to touch it too closely.