“Okay, well,” she said, stopping the chair again with her foot, “when you say it like that, I start filling in blanks. I know it’s not that you don’t know, or don’t think so; it’s that you don’t want to tell me what you actually think. Or you think you’ve already told me, and you’re trying to make me work it out on my own. So. I start trying to think of things you might know but wouldn’t want to say. I look at something like what you just asked, about quitting your job, the way you’re letting it hang there in the air between us, and I start thinking things like maybe it’s a threat. Like maybe you’re saying that if I can’t figure out some way to appease your chronic insecurity, you’ll come home one afternoon with your tie all loosened and your job all gone. Is that what you’re saying?”