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Summary
Perhaps it is this lack of touchstones, perhaps it is the always-liminal quality of the damp, gray time between golden leaves and snow, perhaps it is the two glasses of red wine on a mostly empty stomach or the way the green glow of the signal light catches in Benito’s dark eyes for a moment as he walks her home from the bar, but when he leans in to kiss her in front of her apartment building after their third proper date, Belly thinks about Conrad.
She has thought about him before, of course, but in the way people say to focus on something else when someone is facing a fear of heights: an unrelenting, all-encompassing devotion to not thinking about it that you cannot falter in for even a moment—or you will look down and be hopelessly lost.