Jacob Lawrence, The Lovers (1946)

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As the sex got wilder I became more concerned. I felt it was in danger of becoming friction, and that we were losing the emotional contact which was, I believed, the core of our connection.

I tried to explain, even offering to revert to brother-and-sister platonism if she felt that was the right thing to do.

In her I-am-a-little-girl sing-song that rose an octave as she became more upset she said, "You mean you're just going to dump me?"

"No!" No, no, really, no. Not at all.

Dark-haired boy slams the door of his old rusty VW bus, bounds from the street to her front porch, arrives breathless and apologetic for keeping her waiting. There'd been a miles-long convoy of military vehicles which held him down to 55 for almost an hour.

Unimpressed she said, coldly, "You're always late..."

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