She comes to him late on Wednesdays, only for sex, the cab waiting outside. They talk of nothing much, and there are silences in which they can only look at one another. But neither wants to withdraw and something must be moving between them for they stand up together and lie down beside the table, without speaking. Same time next week she is at the door. They undress immediately. She leaves, not having slept, but he has felt her dozing before she determinedly shakes herself awake. He has no idea where she lives or where she is from. Now she doesn't come into the house but goes straight down to the basement he can't afford to furnish, where he has thrown blankets and duvets on the carpet. A room where everything but clarity, it seems, is permitted. If sex is a way of meeting and getting to know people, what does he know about her?

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