What weather! We hang around the house all day, increasingly restless, like assassins for hire without an assignment. On one channel, there’s a question about who invented the combustion engine; on another, the start of a celebrity death watch. You and I were friends before we were a couple, but unreliable narrators before we were either. Light gathered us to itself, and I think I could hear, if you turn down the TV just a little, the music said to reside in the silence between notes.