he could see her sitting in the early july haze , in that dark orange light a city gets on summer nights just after sundown , looking up as he pulled to the curb and the kids returned to their stickball game in the middle of the street , and the laundry flapped overhead , and she watched him approach with her chin propped on the heel of her hand and the cigarette held up by her ear , and he 'd brought flowers for once , and she was so simply his love , his girl , watching him approach as if she were memorizing him and his walk and those flowers anal this moment , and he wanted to ask her what sound a heart made when it broke from pleasure , when just the sight of someone filled you the way food , blood , and air never could , when you felt as if you 'd been born for only one moment , and this , for whatever reason , was it .