by Lydia Davis
She was in love with her son’s pediatrician. Alone out in the country–could anyone blame her.
There was an element of grand passion in this love. It was also a safe thing. The man was on the other side of a barrier. Between him and her: the child on the examining table, the office itself, the staff, his wife, her husband, his stethescope, his beard, her breasts, his glasses, her glasses, etc.
