(Continued from previous post...)
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.) ''Oh, Roger, do you really feel
that way?'' she says.

''What way?'' says Roger.

''That way about time,'' says Elaine.

''Oh,'' says Roger. ''Yes.''

(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to
become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it
involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

''Thank you, Roger,'' she says.

''Thank you,'' says Roger.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured
soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he
opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply
involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he
never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him
that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty
sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures
it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Roger's policy
regarding world hunger.)

The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them,
and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In
painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything
he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word,
expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every
possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off
and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions,
but never getting bored with it, either.

Meanwhile, Roger, while playing squash one day with a mutual friend of
his and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say:

''Bill, did Elaine ever own a horse?''