Spinning writes: “Hell quench his thirst half raised upon an elbow, half alert to the fact that I am here. He extends the empty glass out trusting me to take it, opens his eyes and mumbles recognition. No morning kissthat is scheduled later in our routine, when he leaves the house and heads out to his life.”

Here’s an interesting play. The author has a sense of confidence in this story, a stout vision of character. The routine of action is written as a constant, something known, hense can be described as blanket past and future as future perfect. There are beautiful details here. Then there’s the concluding “life.” The reader can’t help but wonder: what will happen against the routine?