The writer was known for his habitual use of allegory - mules, lions and muskrats fluttering about his pages struggling for power over one realm or another. Sometime during the writing of his last publication, for her they had all become one story. Blood was always shed. Death inevitably won.
And now he wanted her to read yet another four-legged allegory on good and evil, only this time, it was different. The man she first loved for his words, she no longer had interest in reading. She yearned instead for his love, and a life filled with silent walks in the snow and days of lovemaking in their newly acquired king-size bed. Could she write this new life for them? How would he react if she said she could no longer be his reader?
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