        from FUGUE FOR AN OCTOBER AGE                         THE MIRROR  2 
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             She  sits upright and tosses the crumpled tissue into the waste-
        basket.  Her  breasts  flow with the motion, the nipples purplish in
        the cold flourescent light.  "You know something? I'm hungry." 
             "Hungry?  After all that stuff we had at Marjorie's?"  I  slide 
        the  flat  of my hand down between her thighs.  Her legs drift apart,
        more however in acquiescence than in desire.   She remains impassive
        I finger her opening, now firmly closed and thoroughly dry. 
             "Could you eat spaghetti?" she asks. 
             "No, but I sure could eat some more of you." 
             She twists herself away from me. "Come on, let's get dressed." 
             "But you did get something out of it, didn't you?  I mean, okay
        so I didn't exactly make it in, but you did come, didn't you?" 
             "Now what do you think?" 
             "Then what is it?  What's the matter?" 
             "Nothing.   Or at least nothing that you can do anything about." 
             "Okay, so maybe not right now.   But give me a half hour or so." 
             She scrambles to her feet. "That isn't exactly what I'm talking 
        about." 
             "Well, what then?" 
             She  turns and walks into the washroom.  I wait for a while and 
  
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