Shut up and get it done, I tell myself, drawing a deep breath and straightening up in the rolling chair. There’s no manacle on my leg, no bars on th... doors, but this office has always had a way of making me feel captive all the same. Rows of empty desks and bouncing screensavers sit beneath the ticking clock, whose longest hand waves in leisurely, torturous circles. A few rows over, the scrape of Jenna’s chair against the carpet breaks the still air. ‘You want a drink?’ she says over her. It must have taken me about two years to finally overcome my grief for Ted. I had often wondered how women, left widowed at a reasonably young age, that is, while they still have their sexual powers, managed. Over those two years I found out. I went into a sort of sexual limbo. In men it would probably be called impotence, what it might be called in women I don’t know, perhaps “frigidity,” but I lost all interest. The true depth of Craig’s relationship with Ted came to light at that time. He. More

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