  I turn the kitchen spigot and watch the water plash into the clean white sink. On the grooved drain-board to one side is a glass filled with parsley— crisped green. Waiting for the water to freshen— I glance at the spotless floor—: a pair of rubber sandals lie side by side under the wall-table, all is in order for the night. Waiting, with a glass in my hand —three girls in crimson satin pass close before me on the murmurous background of the crowded opera— it is three vague, meaningless girls full of smells and the rustling sound of cloth rubbing on cloth and little slippers on carpet— high-school French spoken in a loud voice! Parsley in a glass, still and shining, brings me back. I take my drink and yawn deliciously. I am ready for bed. |
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