Because I shouldn’t have to say it—
You know the little arc your hand makes in the air. And when I look away, the smaller knife the paper
(No matter which room we’re in,
the question just seems to multiply:
In the film version of this story, his mistress witnessed the second in a series of air raids. The plane refusing to land in that field. First the dead poppies, now the cut wires. The houses on the coast already gone dark.
The final scene actually shows the burning building, which had been waiting for her on the other end of a telephone. Through its wooden doors, we hear the sound a harp would make in a cathedral.
(Which is to say, of course
there were other fires that year