COCONUT
She wanted him to know: it was like a gift, this happiness.
She was stepping in the front door of her own house. She recognized the red door, the brass knocker, the small square of glass through which she
peered in answer to the ringing of the doorbell.
Strange that only a little while ago, she’d been lying flat on her back on a street not two corners away. Paramedics had been pounding on her chest. She wanted to scream, Stop!
Stop! When she raised her head a little, she could see her car. Smoke was coming from the engine, plainly visible now beneath the tented hood. Hovering nearby was the stricken face of the
driver of the other car, a middle-aged man who kept shaking his head and muttering, Dear God, Dear God
Dear, she wanted to call out. Mahal!
But what was she thinking
