″‘Dinner is served,’ she announced, carrying this big plate of congealed spaghetti. We each sat at opposite ends of the table with the candles burning away. I poured us some wine in these long-stemmed glasses, and for a few moments we just sat looking at each other—her with the feather in her hair and me with my moustache.
‘To the Pigman,’ I said softly.
‘To the Pigman.’
She lifted her glass, and she was lovely.”