I’m thinking maybe Hank is referring to the owl landing on Jen, but it annoys me that he knows I’m thinking this, so I try to clear my mind of all thought, or rather focus on nothing but G. I start to gently kiss her shoulder, the lightly freckled flesh still somewhat visible in her new hue, like an underpainting. But then it occurs to me: doesn’t he know G told me his “secret”? I stand up suddenly and he takes a step back like he knows trouble is coming. . . . .

He frowns, goes to a bookcase, pulls a book out and hands it to me. It’s Ring of Bone, Welch’s collected poems. There’s a photo of the real Lew on the cover, he’s wearing some kinda fur, and the old Hank does bear a certain uncanny resemblance.