"You open it, Ruth. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. “I’ve got it. Confound this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am killed in doing it!” She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her. I met her when we were both very young, as young as you are. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft.
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