Jenny drops some hardcover pulp on the table, making my cereal flip its milk. ‘Did you annotate my book?’ She demands. I stare at the little bits of white chaos on hardwood. ‘Did you annotate…’ I got it, I tell her, it’s just a weird word to hear out loud. ‘Well you’ve heard it twice now and missed the point both times.’ Or circumnavigated it for purposeful effect? Which is increasingly her ire. You’re about to be angry with me, huh? ‘There’s no about about it, I’m angry with you already.’ Hold on, I say, let me annotate that.

Advertisements